


A More Concrete Faith

by Shorknado



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, JUST GUYS BEIN DUDES, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Torture, Post-Canon, Roadtrip, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-20 23:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17631491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: Its been one year since Waylon got out of Mt. Massive Asylum in one piece. He's been forced into hiding, running from place to place in the vauge hopes one day he will be safe.One year since escaping Mt. Massive, Waylon meets the only other survivor.





	1. Qualtagh

**Author's Note:**

> Im playin outlast with my gf soon and im so hype i started a fanfic. Idk if ill put in any outlast 2 stuff, and im generally leaving out lisa and kids bcs i Dont Care. This is my gay roadtrip i pick the boys!!!

Waylon pulls the keys out of the ignition, and looks at the buzzing motel lights ahead of him. The neon sign read Econo 7 and below that the V in vacancy blinked weakly in the dying light of sunset.

 It was just past golden hour, and he had to be checked in by 11 or he was looking at another week of sleeping in the backseat. He grabs his backpack from the passenger seat and the checks to make sure his envelope of cash and spare clothes are tucked safely away before exiting and locking the vehicle.

 The reception area is empty, save for the portly man lounging behind the desk. He smiles kindly at Waylon. Something he finds unsettling.

 "Good evening sir, how can I help you?" The man asks, sitting up straight in his seat.

 "H-hello. I have a reservation under Jesse Green?" Waylon replies, pulling out his fake drivers license to set on the counter.

 The man types the name into the computer and inspects the license before sliding it back to Waylon, "Of course. You're room will be 213, let me get your keycard."

 The man turns away and Waylon takes the time to scan the room again. The front exit was close but the doors needed to be pulled. The hall to the rooms was dark. He could bolt down there and hide in the shadows if he- The chair sqeaks and Waylon looks back to the man as he places the keycard and recipt on the counter.

 "Here you are Mr. Green. Enjoy your stay."

 "Thank you." He says and takes the items. Another social interaction completed with grace and ease. He lets out a soft sigh when he gets out of sight and makes his way silently towards the upper level. He liked it when they put him in motels with balcony access. He wasn't about to let himself get locked in another building.

 The wind is gentle and cool when he opens the door to the second floor. His room is slotted near the middle of the lines of doors, and coincidently the jeep is right below it. That's good. That's safe.

 He enters the room and checks to make sure its secure. Drawing the curtains, locking the windows, and the doors deadbolt. He shoves a chair under the handle for good measure. He opens the bathroom door and turns the lights on.

 He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his heavy eyes. Today was the 17th of September. Exactly one year since the nightmare at Mount Massive. He lets out a soft laugh at that and lays back in the bed.

 One year, how many more to go?

 Waylon closes his eyes, sleeping is always fitful and elusive. However trying to rest was better than thinking about that night again. He lets out a slow breath, and forces himself to relax.

\----

The sound of sirens worms its way into Waylons foggy mind. They're distant and fading away. He lets out a soft sleepy grunt and rolls over onto his side, content to let himself fall back into sleep.

 Except his mind was already waking up, and he felt sleep was escaping his grasp again. A shame too, he didn't have any dreams tonight. Bad or otherwise. He felt...well rested for the first time in a long time. With a sigh he rolls onto his back and cracks his eyes open.

 His breath catches in his thoat.

 Eyes. Pitch black eyes are staring down at him.

 He starts to shake, adrenaline flooding his system. He's afraid to move. How long has this man been here? Watching him sleep, how did he get in without him hearing?

 He looks down to see the man was essentially staddling him, but positioned so they were not touching. He looks back up to those horrifying eyes. The man was completely expressionless, a few locks of dark brown hair hung framed his face. He was very handsome despite the situation.

 Waylon swallows, the man hadn't moved at all since he woke up. Hell he couldn't tell if the guy was breathing he was so fucking still. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Lay here until they turn to dust? Or until the guy gets tired of waiting and snaps his neck?

 He takes a deep breath, and raises a shaking hand. He presses it gently, but firmly, into the mans chest. He feels a weak pulse, and the body is unnaturally cold. Waylon gulps, and tries to push the man away.

 " _Whistleblower."_

 Waylon's hand goes limp, a fresh spike of fear in his chest.

 "What?"

His soft whisper broke the strange peace between them. He watches in growing panic as the inky black fades from the mans eyes. Revealing a lovely deep brown, burning with hatred. The pulse under Waylon's palm grows stronger, and his common sense finally kicks in.

 Waylon shoves his other hand into the mans chest and pushes him away. He couldn't tell if the man was insanely strong, or really heavy since he barely budges at the shove. Waylon scrambles back, out from under the man, head smacking into the headboard with a hollow thunk. He rolls to the left off the bed and onto the floor before jumping to his feet. He had to get to the door. He could jump off the balcony and run to the gas station across the street.

 Waylon runs directly into the stranger, bouncing off his chest as if he was a brick fucking wall. He stumbles a bit and his weak ankle gives out, dropping him to the ground with a painful thud. How the fuck did the guy get to the door so fast? Oh god he was so fucked he knew he couldn't escape Murkoff forever no matter how much the organization helped him.

 The man drops to his knees infront of him. His gaze was just as piercing without the strange black sheen.

 "Are you Waylon Park?"

 The voice is different than the other one he heard. Its deep, and firm. The type of voice that makes you trust the one speaking.

 "Yeah...I am."

 The stranger laughs, its desperate and sad. He brings his hands up and rubs his face. He was missing two fingers, one on each hand.

 "Nice to meet you, Park," The man brings his hands away from his face, and meets Walon's eyes, "I'm Miles Upshur. You might remember me."

 Waylon stares at him, that name was familiar. Miles must have seen the recognition in his eyes, and he nods in confirmation.

 Someone had come. Someone had responded to his stupid cry for help and...oh god his _fingers._ What had they done to him? What did _they_ do to him? 

  _"Whistleblower."_

 He jolts, that voice again. Raspy and weak, not his. And not Miles.

"D-did you hear that?"

Milea smiles, a distraught expression, "I hear it all the time, Waylon."

He looks away, shame building up inside him. He didn't realize that anyone had seen his email. He knew they were sent but it could take someone a few days to responde. God, Miles must have answered in mere hours for him to have been there during the event. Waylon did this too him.

 "How did you find me? I-I'm in witness protection!" Waylon says in a panic.

 "That's our car."

 Waylon frowns, "The jeep?"

 "No, the other car. Yes the damn jeep. You drove it out of Mt. Massive, and we followed it."

 "For an entire year?"

 Miles waves his hand dismissively, "Roughly. It's a long story."

 Waylon nods, not really sure how to responde to that explination. He had so many questions for Miles he couldn't seem to focus.

 He watches Miles reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a ziploc bag. Miles examins it before holding it out to Waylon.

 "What is this?" Waylon asks, gingerly taking the bag.

 "A memory chip from my camera. I filmed my experiences too, but I didn't get as lucky. It will be faster than us explaining it."

 Waylon nods. He didn't carry electronics anymore. He only used the burner phones the organization provided him. But he did have a secure laptop with him, for emergency and entertainment. He would just need to get a reader for it.

 "Do you always sleep in your clothes like a fucking animal?"

 He looks up to see that Miles had stood and was making his way to the bed, flopping down.

 "Also you sleep like a baby. Makes me jealous."

 Waylon jumps to his feet, suddenly remembering that Miles literally broke into his room and watched him sleep for god knows how long.

 "How did you get in here?" Waylon demands, looking down at Miless annoyingly reclined figure in the bed.

 "We'll never tell." Miles says with a coy wink. He folds his hands behind his head and kicks off his boots, "Watch the video."

 "No, no. How the hell did you get im here? And why were you watching me sleep you- you creep!"

 Miles snorts, and rolls his eyes, "Wasn't me."

Waylon opens his mouth, and stops. He can't even think of a non ridiculous thing to say about that. He sighs, resigned to his fate.

"I... I need to get an adaptor to read the memory card. Will you be here when I get back?" He asks, hoping he doesn't come off as needy. He was just...curious.

 "Sure. If you don't come back we'll find you again."

 Waylon nods. He doesn't know if thats a threat or not. He sets the plastic bag down on the tv stand and grabs his clothing out of his backpack. Setting his laptop on the tv stand next to the bag. Miles remains unmoving on the bed. His chest was rising and falling so subtly he could easily be mistaken as a corpse.

 Waylon turns away and locks the door to the bathroom. He used to be the long hot shower type of person. But after that night he shuddered at the thought of being exposed.

 It takes about three minutes for him to wash himself with the complementary soaps and he's dressed in his clean clothes in less than a minute. He folds his dirty clothes and steps out of the bathroom. He would have to visit the laundromat soon.

 "That was fast." Mile's comments from the bed, causing Waylon to jump slightly. He decided not to answer, instead shoving some money into his wallet and moving the chair away from the door.

 "Do you...need anything?" Waylon asks, unsure what type of ettiquite is appropriate for this situation.

 "Uhh, can you pick me up a big mac?" Miles replies after a moment of silence.

 "With fries?"

 "Fuck yeah."

 Waylon smiles, feeling a oddly at ease with a near stranger. There was something about Miles that made him feel safe.

"I'll be back."

\---

Waylon is taking the bag from the McDonald's worker when he realizes he's a absolute fucking idiot.

 Not only did he allow a strange man to break into his motel room, a man that literally loomed over him and _watched him sleep_ for hours, he just left him there. _Alone._ With his laptop.

He should have run he should have took this as an excuse to drive as far as the half tank could get him and call the organization. God he was so fucking _stupid._

 Waylon parks in the same spot and grabs the bag. This will be ok, he thinks as starts toward the room. This will be just fine. All he had to do was calmy get his stuff, give Mile's the food, pretend to forget something in the car, and then drive out of there. Simple.

 He swips the keycard and opens the door. Miles had turned off the bathroom lights, but otherwise remained in the same position on the bed. He closes the door and sets the plastic Best Buy bag on his laptop before approaching Miles.

 "I uh, got your food?"

 Miles opens his eyes, they meet Waylon's before drifting down to the bag. A smile tugs at Miles lips and he sits up, "Shit you really got it? Thank you."

 Waylon passes him the bag and quickly turns away. He has to get his stuff packed right fucking now he needs to-

 "Watch the video, Waylon."

 He stops dead, a cold chill running up his spine.

 "I will! H-how long is it?" He asks, voice straining slightly with nervs.

 The innocuous sound a paper wrapping fills the silence that overtook the room.

 "Uhh I guess six or seven hours?"

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 "About the same as mine huh?" Waylon replies as he takes the laptop and sits in the desk chair.

"We were there at the same time."

 Waylon looks at Mile's, who has already devoured the burger and was eating his fries. He was watching Waylon intently. Waylon quickly busies himself with turning on the laptop and getting the adaptor connected.

 He felt hope quickly draining out of him as his sweaty fingers tapped at the keys. The feeling of his heart thumping in his chest and his fingers started to shake as he typed.

 The tv clicks on and Waylon jumps. Miles tosses the empty McDonald's bag into the trash can and looks bordly at the tv as the it flicks through different channels. Settling on an episode of Real Housewives. Miles frowns, and then gives Waylon a resigned look.

 "Watch the video. Hell skip most of the beginning and any of the shit that makes your skin crawl. Just...watch the ending."

 Waylon nods, looking nervously at the screen and starting the video. Sound starts playing from the tiny speakers and he mutes it. He sets the laptop on the table and sets the video to 3xs speed. Most of the video is a Miles wondering and running through the facility. Seeing all the horrors after so long makes his ankle hurt and head thronlb. His memories of the place are very foggy, almost dreamlike. Probably due to the Engine he was subjected too. He could forget the specifics on most days, but the feelings, the racing of his heart and the pure ugly fear. Those stuck with him.

 He skips a few hours ahead after 30 or so minutes of Miles wondering around lost. Waylon knew exactly where Miles was and where he needed to go and watching him so lost was kind of annoying. He finds himself watching Miles make his way down the engine control panel. It was so stark and clean down here. Very unsettling. Waylon didn't like the few times he worked down here. It looks like Miles is the one that shut down all the fucked up shit they were doing down there.

 "This is a good part."

Waylon jumps and lets out a very pathetic yelp. Miles had snuck up behind him and was leaning down, watching the screen intently.

"Pay attention." He orders.

Waylon nods, turning back to the screen. Miles moves, pressing a few buttons and putting the video back to a regular speed before turning the volume up.

 The camera is on, and shaking slightly as armed soldiers burst into the door. The camera lowers to film the floor. Gunshots fire, and Waylon flinches.

 "Gott in Himmel. You have become the host!"

 The camera is pointing at the hewn marble walls as the screams start to echo from the speakers. Blood splatters on the camera lense as static floods the screen. Then the video ends.

The Host.

 The Morphogenic Engine was making hosts for the nanocloud. He did programming on the pods and had done some editing to the nanoclod program.

 " _You have become the host._ "

 Waylon leaps to his feet and turns to face Miles. Backing away until his back hits the wall. The nanocloud ripped Jeremy into pieces. It ripped all those inmates to shreds.

 What did the patients call it? Something with a wal in it?

 Miles remains next to the desk, his gaze locked onto Waylon. He was the host. Oh god he was the host to that fucking thing.

 An afterimage flickers behind his eyes. That damn image the Morphic Engine made him stare at. Waylon closes his eyes and shakes his head. This was not right. This was wrong. The Nanocloud should have died with the shutdown.

 Cold hands grip his face, and tilt his head up. Waylon winces and starts to hyperventilate. That thing tore Jeremy in half. It killed the big guy, Walker in seconds. That thing tried to get him. That thing did this. He was trapped with that _monster._

 He was going to die oh god he was going to be killed.

 "Waylon." Miles voice feels far away, "Waylon look at us."

 He shakes his head, gasping softly in fear. He didn't want to see that image again, he didn't want to see the Nanocloud again.

 " _Whistleblower. Open your eyes."_

 Waylon lets out a soft whimper, quickly biting his lip to hold back more noises. Slowly, he opens his eyes and meets Miles pitch black ones.

 Miles hands seems to grow colder against Waylon's flushed face. He can't think of anything to say, no last words.

 " _I've searched so long for you, Whistleblower_ _. You freed me_ _. You. Are. Mine."_

 The words seem to flow right into his mind. Directly into his bones. There's a strange, deep emotion in that voice, and he knows it belongs to the Nanocloud.

 "Wh-" Waylon voice is almost a sob, "When are you going to kill me?"

 Silence. Waylon gulps, and tears begin to fall down his cheeks.

 " _I need you alive."_

 Waylon nods, feeling slightly better that he isn't going to die in the next few minutes.

 "Why?"

  _"You can fix us_ _. You can help me."_

  _"_ I-I can't help you."

An odd black steam rises from Miles arms, and he leans closer. So close Waylon can feel the gentle puffs of Miles breath on his wet cheeks.

 " _You will._ "

 The black sheen fades from Miles eyes, revealing the comforting brown shade. Miles frowns in confusion, pulling away from Waylon quickly and dropping his hands.

 "Shit, sorry I- are you crying?"

Waylon lets out a shuddering breath and sinks to the floor. He brings his knees to his chest and buries his face in his arms. He needed to calm down, taking steady and even breaths.

 "Oh fuck," He hears a movement and Miles voice is much closer, "Waylon? Are you...ok?"  Miles voice is gentle and he sounds genuinely concerned.

 Waylon shakes his head in response.

 "What did it say to you?"

 He takes a few breaths, calming himself down as much as he can. When his pulse falls to a less hetic rate Waylon looks up. Miles is kneeling in front of him and pointedly avoiding his gaze.

 "Th-the nanocloud said I could help it."

 Waylon sees hope in Miles eyes, and it hurts him so much.

 "Can you?"

He nods, unable to refuse such desperation. Miles lips twitch, and he smiles. Its beautiful. Waylon had to help him, he had to fix the mess he caused. He brought Miles to Mt. Massive. He helped create the Nanocloud. He had to save Miles. It was his only way to repent.


	2. Lacuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect to pump out a new chapter so soon lmoa. Logically, waylon wouldnt be able to hide but suspend ur beliefe long enough to enjoy the story. 
> 
> Also laundromats late at night are my fave aesthetic and i subscribe to the idea the walrider has a big crush on waylon

Waylon sighs, and looks at the flip phone in his shaking hands. Would the agency buy their story? It sounded so fake, but maybe because he had made it up.

"Do you wanna run through it again?" Miles asks curiously.

Waylon glances over at him; ill at ease leaning on the washing mashing across from the matching one he was sitting on. They were alone at the laundromat, unsuprsing since its 10:45. The person behind the counter had headphones on and was pointedly ignoring them. The small tv attached to the wall was playing a staticy episode of Kitchen Nightmares.

"Sure."

Miles takes a dramatic breath, and raises his creepy hands to gesticulate, "You ran into me here, at this laundromat. I'm a friend of yours you met in college. I used to freelance in the area. We lost contact with eachother until now. Lo and behold I'm hitchhiking around the country and wanna stick with you."

"They're not going to believe that Miles are you kidding me!" Waylon groans and slides miserably off the washer and onto the ground. He rubs his heavy eyes and rests his arms on his knees.

"Oh come on, I doubt they'll care."

"I'm literally on a hit list." Waylon snaps.

"Oh boo hoo, try being dead."

Waylon glares at Miles before looking away. It was his fault Miles was in this situation, if he hadn't send that e-mail Miles would be safe at home.

"Look, Waylon. Just y'know give 'em a call. Try and sound pitiful, desperate for companionship. Make me sound like a harmless little news boy."

He must have given Miles a very unimpressed look because the man rolls his eyes and crouches down in front of his washer.

"You can use me as a meat shield. They'll love it."

Waylon looks down at the phone and flips it open. He takes a deep breath and starts to dial, stopping before hitting send.

"Why don't I just tell them you're the host?" He asks absently, running his thumb over the send button.

Miles is silent, uncharacteristic of him, along with a troubled look on his face.

"I don't know what they'll do to me." Miles admits, a waver of fear in the soft whisper.

Waylon nods, and hits the send button. Standing up and walking a few paces away as he listens to the dial tone.

"Mr. Park." A familiar female voice answers. He didn't know her name, but she was his assigned agent. He always did check ins with her when his instructions ran out and he needed a care package.

"Hey Ma'am I uh, have a question- request for you." He says, nervously glancing back at Miles who is currently switching their wet clothing into the washer.

Waylon only had three sets of clothing and a jacket. Miles on the other hand only had single spare shirt and jeans. He practically lived in his leather jacket. Waylon wonders if it he would find it rude if he offered to get him new clothing.

"What is it Mr. Park."

Waylon looks back to the glassy surface of an empty dyer and his disheveld reflection.

"Yeah uh so I-I actually met an old friend at the motel I was in. The Econo 7. He's on a cross country trip and his car broke down.Would it be ok for him to travel with me?" Waylon stutters out. He felt like a kid asking if his friend could stay over when it was already past curfew.

There's silence in the line and Waylon holds his breath.

"What's his name." The agent asks, voice filled professional inscrutability.

"Miles Upshur."

He realizes she was probably doing a background check on Miles. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Miles Upshur has been missing for a year. Are you sure this is your friend."

Waylon bites his lip, of course Miles had gone AWOL after Mt. Massive.

"I-I'm pretty sure? He sounds like Miles, knows stuff only he would know..."

"Miles Upshur has a birthmark on his left hipbone. Three freckles in a semi circle. Check him."

Waylon feels his face become warm, "Right now?"

"If you cannot confirm this is Miles Upshur you will be asked to leave him or risk us cutting contact."

Waylon takes a breath and nods, "Ok, ok. Give me a moment."

He lowers his phone and turns to Miles, who perks up. He covers the receiver and approaches keeping his voice a low whisper.

"I need to see your birthmark."

Miles eyes widen in shock and he glances around before leaning forward, "How the fuck do you know about that?" He hisses.

Waylon points at the phone quickly, "Th-The Agent told me to confirm its you. You've been missing for a year! You could be a Murkoff spy to them."

Miles sighs and nods, "Ok I have it. Three freckles on my hip."

"Can I see it?"

Miles looks away, brows furrowing for a moment before he lets out a huff. Miles pulls his shirt up and tugs his pants down slightly, revealing the three dots on his hipbone before quickly pulling his pants up and turning away.

Waylon shuffles back to his spot near the dryer walls and lifts the phone, "Ok I saw it. Right where you said it was. Left hip."

There's another silence on the line before she responds, "For now we will allow Mr. Upshur to travel with you since. Do not reveal the reason you are traveling to him. Please understand you are putting him in grave danger by being with him."

Waylon frowns at the wording, "I know but...I think it will help."

"You're new care package will be in your hotel room before you check out. Please dispose of this phone quickly. Be safe, Mr. Park."

The line goes dead and Waylon sighs in relief before he snaps the phone in half and drops it into a trash can for lint. He turns to Miles, who raises his eyebrows curiously.

"You can stay."

Miles grins, "Hell yeah!"

Waylon raises a hand and shoosh Miles. Walking closer to speak in a more hushed tone, "You're not supposed to know why I'm on the run, and uh your life is in grave danger too."

Miles playfully wiggles his fucked up fingers in Waylon's face, "Wouldn't be the first time you brought me into "grave danger""

Waylon forces a smile and looks at their clothes in the dryer. He felt...a warm sensation in his chest. He wouldn't be alone anymore. He was with someone who went through the same hell as him.

_"I'll keep you safe."_

Waylon jumps at the voice. He hadn't heard the Nanocloud 'speak' since yesterday. The idea that it was a semi-sentient being made his stomach twist. Miles scoffs and shakes his head.

"Why the hell is the Walrider so sweet on you. It's weird."

"Walrider?" Waylon repeats, tilting his head curiously.

"Yeah..." Miles frowns and gives Waylon a look, "Wait you don't know who the Walrider is?"

"No?"

Miles snorts, muttering something to himself. He hears an odd buzz and the lights above them flicker.

"The Walrider is what the Nanocloud likes to be called."

Walon's stomach twists again and he shifts away from Miles ever so slightly. The nanocloud was starting to sound more like a sentient being. God what had they made.

"Oh."

An awkward silence falls between them and the unfamilar buzz fades away. Only the sound of the tv and clothing tumbling in the machine where heard. Awkward, but peaceful.

"Uh, how did you start the dryer? I still have the quaters?"

Miles laughs softly, "Our little secret."

"Did you use the Nanoclou-"

_"Walrider."_

Waylon blanches at the interruption but continues, "Th-the Walrider to start the dryer?"

"Maaaybe."

On cue the dryer stops and Waylon pops it open. Gathering all the clothing into his arms and carrying it to one of the table and dumping the heap onto it. Miles sidles up beside him and starts picking his shirts out of the pile. Waylon watches in horror and he shoves the shirts in his back pack.

"Miles, what are you doing?"

Miles looks up, and then down at his bag, "Getting my clothing?"

"At least fold them."

A look of comedic disbelief passes over Miles face, "Why?"

"They'll get wrinkles."

Another pause, "...So?"

Waylon sighs, "Give me your clothes."

"Why?"

Waylon turns to Miles and puts his hands on his hips. He has to tilt his head up slightly to meet Miles eyes sternly, "I'm going to fold them."

Miles visably chokes down a laugh, "What are you? My dad? I'm not letting you fold my boxers."

"Miles if you don't fold your clothes I _will_ fold your boxers for you."

Miles shakes his head and removes the clothing from the bag. He walks around the table and sets his shirts down. He glances up to meet Waylon's stern glare and shakes his head before starting to sloppily fold his clothing.

Waylon nods to himself and gets to work meticulously folding his own clothes and placing them neatly into his duffle bag. He often worked from home and did the chores while Lisa was at the office. He swallows back a lump in his throat and tries not to think about them.

He tucks the last shirt into the bag and loops it over his shoulder, looking at Mile's who had obviously finished long ago. He needed to get the guy new clothes.

"Ready?"

"Yeah. I'm driving."

Miles pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket and heads to the jeep. For the first time Waylon sees the small neat stitches on the back of his jacket.

Bullet holes.

\--

Waylon opens the door to the hotel and leaves it open for Miles. On the bed was a manila envelope, no doubt holding 500 in cash and a flip phone. He picks it up and starts reading through the instructions as Miles locks the door and starts checking the room.

"The organization wants me- us to drive east towards the California Coast line. We might have to cross Death Valley."

"Ooh, fun."

Waylon memorizes the route and rips up the paper into the smallest pieces he can before dropping it in the toilet and flushing it away. He turns to see Miles draping his coat on the back of the chair and kick his boots off. He grabs a pillow off the bed and and the comforter.

"What are you doing?"

Miles looks up, "Uh going to bed?"

"You don't have to sleep on the floor."

Miles shrugs and disappears behind the bed. Waylon walks around and watches him get comfy on the ground.

"I refuse to share a bed with a guy that sleeps in his shoes."

Waylon glares at the form on the ground and angrily lays down, "Shut up."

He hears Miles snicker, "Ooh did I strike a nerve? I guess if _I_ had a pair of piss yellow converse I would never take them off."

Waylon shudders at the phantom pain of broken glass slicing his feet. At the feeling of dirt and blood and god knows what digging into the cuts on his heels. The flash of agony in his ankle.

_Darling_

Waylon bolts up, stumbling out of bed. He barely makes it to the toilet before he vomits up nothing but bile. He hadn't eaten anything today. He heaves again and hears an odd buzz in his ears before the nausea dissapates.

He gets to his feet and washes out his mouth in the sink. Splashing his face with cold water and turning the bathroom light on before returning to the bed.

Miles was silent, and Waylon turns his back on him even though he can't see it. He watches the time on the digital clock tick away, and his heavy eyes don't close until well into the night.

Beepbeep. Beepbeep. Beepbeep.

Waylon jerks to the left, hitting his head on something fleshy. He groans and opens his eyes to a pair of now familiar black ones above him.

Miles watch was beeping away in his ear, disrupting his surprisingly good night of sleep. Two in a row, how lucky. The man was looming over him again, black eyes boring into his soul.

"Miles cut this out." Waylon whines pathetically. He could probably drift back to sleep if he tried.

Waylon clicks off Miles' watch and yawns, he looks into the inky eyes sleepily. He rolls over, his hip awkwardly brushes Miles' crotch and closes his eyes. Dutifully ignoring the entire man above him.

No. This was weird. He can't just ignore this weird shit. Waylon rolls onto his back and looks sternly up at Miles.

" _Whistleblower."_

Waylon shudders, a cold chill running up his spin. Miles shares a body with Walrider. He wasn't looking at Miles, this is the Nanocloud.

"W-walrider," Waylon starts, clearing his throat nervously, "What are you doing?"

Silence falls and he hears the soft buzz in his ears. That must be the Walrider...expressing itself.

" _Watching."_

Waylon nods, nervously fidgeting under the intense stare, "Oh...yeah you are...uhm...why?"

The buzz changes tone to what Waylon assumes is a thoughtful sound.

" _Protect. We protect you."_

"Why," Waylon mumbles, trying to will the warmth out of his cheeks, "I've never helped you. I just did the codes and..."

_"You saved us. From_ _Murkoff."_

_"_ What."

_"You brought Miles to me_ _. You freed the souls from torment_ _. You heal me. You. Are. Mine."_

Waylon starts to shake as panic sets in. This thing could kill him. He was at its mercy. And it was utterly obbsessd with him.

"Go away..." Waylon whimpers, covering his ears and closing his eyes like a child, "Please go away."

He didn't want to think about what he did. He didn't want to remember what he did to Miles. To all the patients. He let them get hurt. He allowed them to suffere. He was just as bad as Jeremy. As the doctors. He was a monster.

_Darling. Whore._

He covers his mouth, biting back a sob.

" _Whistleblower...stop...feeling_ _. Be okay."_

Waylon shakes his head, taking deep gasping breaths, "G-get away from me. Please I...I want to be alone."

The buzz in his ears rises and falls before it fades away. He feels Miles come back from wherever his thoughts went when the Walrider comes. Waylon didn't even care that he was crying like a child.

Miles pulls back, awkwardly unstradling Waylon's waist. Now free from Miles' weight he turns his back to him and curls into the fetal position. He presses his palms into his eyes until he sees colors instead of blood and gore and the man downstairs. He feels Miles lay down next to him. Not touching him, but the gentle warmth of another human was enough.

Waylon's tears subside into hiccups, and the exhaustion of the past days hit him. He couldn't run from Mt. Massive anymore. It will come to him.

Miles remains silent and still as Waylon drifts off for the second time.

He doesn't dream.


	3. Adronitis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in thos bitch, thaml you for the kind comments! They keep me youthful

The static finally consumes the faint warbly music that had been holding on to the jeeps receiver for far longer than he had expected and leaves them with the rumble of the engine for company.

He leans forward and slowly turns the knob, searching the silence for another signal that could pass the minutes on the bleak highway.

Waylon didn't realize how boring car ride were until he wasn't the one driving. He could easily zone out for hours, paying just enough attention to make the right turns, take the the correct exits and channel surf to his hearts content. Now all he had to focus on was the rolling desert. It didn't distract him nearly enough.

"Can I drive next?" He asks, trying not to sound whiny or demanding.

"No." Miles replies flatly. 

They had hit the road early after the awkward night sharing the single bed. He had cried himself to sleep and woken up to Miles finishing a shower. The only words he said to the man all day were tentative directions after Miles had sat in the drivers side and stared out the window expectantly. 

Waylon huffs and continues spinning the dial, "We've been driving for six hours, can we at least find a rest stop?" He asks, letting more frustration slip into his voice than intended. 

"Next ones thirty miles." Miles respondes in a smug matter of fact monotone 

Great. Amazing. What a fun fucking road trip. He gives up on the radio and angrily falls back in his seat, glaring at the desert sands miserably. He should pick up a book next time they hit a city if he was going to be stuck in shotgun for god knows how long with nothing to distract him from himself. He wished his kids were here to annoy him. 

"Fuck off," Miles mutters under his breath.

Waylon glances over to see Miles roll his eyes, tapping an agitated finger on the wheel. He...had been doing that every now and then. Mumbling to himself, usually just low enough so Waylon couldn't make out any words. He assumes Miles is talking to the Walrider and not slipping into a maddness that will leave Waylon dead in a shallow desert grave.

"What's it saying?" Waylon asks tentatively. Acting like a child and giving Miles the cold shoulder wasn't going to help their relationship. 

"Hm? Oh nothing interesting. Don't worry about it." 

Waylon tilts his head and gives Miles a doubtful stare. It only takes a few glances over for Miles to sigh and shrug. 

"It's nagging at me." 

He lets out a snort, "You're getting nagged at by a cloud of nanomachines?" 

"Yeah and it's a really bitchy cloud of nanomachines."

Waylon hums thoughtfully. He supposes it's not out of the realm of possibilities for the Walrider to nag at Miles. Walrider did seem to take him as a host out of desperation. Miles seemed very lone wolf, the idea that he was stuck with a symbiote would obviously annoy him. 

"What's it want you to do?"

Miles shifts in his seat and his brow furrows, "It..." He trails of and sighs, shaking his head, "The thing wants me to let you drive."

He can't help but scoff at the utter distaste in Miles' voice. As if he was admitting some sort of sin. 

"I agree with Walrider, I should drive."

"No."

Waylon hears a buzz in his ears, the sign of Walrider doing something in or to the car no doubt. 

"You're outnumbered here."

Miles glances at him with a comically offended look on his face, "Oh are you insinuating that the Walrider gets a say in who drives?" Miles sneers, "It lives in my body so it can't drive! Walrider gets no say in-" 

Miles cuts off, letting out a choking cough and pressing a palm against his forehead. The buzz rises from a soft whine of a low radio to that of shrill TV static. Waylon covers his ears and closes his eyes, but that doesn't lessen the din.

"Fucking quite it!" Miles growls. Waylon can practically hear him gritting his teeth as the car careens dangerously close to the edge of the road. Thank god the highway had been empty fir that past two hours.

Miles' protests only make the buzz rise to an almost impossible level. A mix of whitenoise and whistling wind fill Waylon's ears. He can feel Walriders anger at Miles reverberating in his skull and vibrating his bones. He can see the image, that awful fucking image. 

"Walrider, stop!"

Silence. Utter silence. Waylon didn't know how loud he had spoken. He didn't know when the car had stopped, when the engine had died. Miles soft breathing is the first sound he registers. 

He opens his eyes, to see them at a dead stop in the middle of the road. He turns to see Miles hunched over the wheel, head in his hands as his shoulder rise and fall with deep pain filled breaths. 

"Miles?" He whispers, reaching out to lay a hand on the other mans shoulder, but stopping short. Hand hovering above the jacket, "Are you ok?"

Miles nods, and after a few moments he leans back in his seat. Letting out a long breath, he turns to meet Waylon's eyes. The soft brown gaze was filled with fear. 

Miles blinks, then his lips quirk up into a small forced smile, "You still wanna drive?"

Waylon nods, and they switch seats in silence. As soon as Waylon buckles up the jeep roars to life on its own. He pretends not to notice. 

\--

"What was that about?" Waylon asks as he pushes his fries around on the tray.

"With _it._ Back in the car." He clarifies after getting no reply. 

Miles takes an obnoxiously long sip out of his milkshake, looking around the empty Wendy's with as much interest as if it was the Grand Canyon. 

"Not too sure. It's always been pretty disinterested in people since hitchhiking with me." Miles pointedly looks at his cup and not at Waylon, "You've always been the exception. Fucker barely cares about me and it lives in me."

The lights above them flicker, and Miles huffs. Shoving fries into his mouth angrily. Waylon watches him thoughtfully. Miles had been stuck with Walrider for a year, and it seems they somehow managed to keep interactions to a minimum. Waylon dumps his fries into Miles' tray, and watches him start to eat them without pause.

"Have you talked to it?"

Miles pauses in his endeavor of eating his weight in fries to give Waylon a withering look, "Is that a trick question? Of course I have."

"No I mean like had a real conversation with it?" 

A thoughtful look passes Miles' face and he drums whats left of his fingers on the table.

"Its only ever seemed interested in one thing."

"And that is?"

Miles sighs and looks down, "You. All its ever wanted in the past year was to find you."

Waylon clears his throat, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable at the thought. 

"It's always 'whistleblower this, whistleblower that' it literally never shuts up about you!" Miles rants, gesticulating with one hand. 

"The whistleblower is upset" he says in a mocking voice thats an earily spot on impression of the clouds whisper, "Let him drive. He is sad, make it stop."

Miles glares at Waylon, "Pisses me the fuck off."

The familar feeling of guilt seeps into Waylon and he looks at his empty tray, "I'm sorry I-"

"Don't bother. Not my fault a hivemind robocloud has a crush on you."

Waylon fidgets with the sleeve of his flannel and feels his face warm up, "It does not have a crush on me! It...uh..."

Miles snickers and shakes his head, "I'll try and...talk to it."

Waylon feels a smile tug at his mouth and jumps at the change in topic, "Good! It will be better for you to work together so I can figure out how to help."

Miles opens the top of his milkshake and chugs the rest of his drink.

"Don't act like our dad. Its weird." Miles says after the last gulp before he stacks their trays and stands. 

"Lets go." He says, pulling the keys from his pocket and tossing them on the table infront of Waylon, "You drive."

Waylon looks at the keys in suprise for a moment before taking them and quickly following Miles out the door and to the jeep. Miles opens the passanger door and crawls into the back as Waylon circles to the drivers side and unlocks the door. He watches Miles shove their bags on the floor and lays down in the small space. It didn't look particularly comfortable, Waylon had tried sleeping back there a few times only to find he was better off reclining the front seat than cramming his legs against the window. 

They were going to be sleeping at a travel stop for the night before crossing Death Valley. He wonders if it would be worth it to get a motel to avoid sleeping together in the truck. 

"Turn the radio on." Miles says from the back, and Waylon clicks it on obediently.

"Looking for something?" Waylon asks, hand hovering over the dial. 

"Whatever you want. I have to speak out loud to it."

Waylon shuffles to a station that was advertising and all 80s weekend and stops, turning the volume up enough so he could only hear Miles if the man raised his voice above a whisper. 

"Thanks."

The buzz starts again. It's such an odd noise, it sounded almost like a old fridge that was a little louder than it should be, with an odd metallic undertone. Like parts of the fridge were rubbing together. He wonders if its a byproduct of the Walrider being more active. When he was traversing Mt. Massive he would often hear odd noises. Odder than the general noises of suffering, something he could only describe as the wind itself exhaling. Was that the Walrider then?

The music dies for a comercial break and Miles soft whisper becomes momentarily understandable. 

"-its weird when you do that, it makes him uncomfortable. You can just lo-" 

The music picks up, and Waylon tunes Miles out in favor of staring at the car ahead and emptying his mind of any thoughts, Traumatic or otherwise, and any conversation between an equally as fucked up man and a sentient swarm of nanites. 

A few merges, exits, and 80s hits later Waylon notices that they're almost to the truck stop the directions specified. It would be their last stop before hitting the desert so they had to stock up on water and food. He wasn't too sure what would happen if the jeep broke down out there. 

Waylon glances in the rearview mirror and gasps in fear. Miles black eyes were looking directly into his. He really shouldn't be as surprised by the sight, but god there was something about it. The inhuman expressionless face of Miles and the glassy black eyes were unnerving. It was like looking at a wax sculpture that could move. 

"H-hey...Walrider we're almost to our stop for the night."

The car is dead silent as the radio clicks off on it's own. Waylon starts to sweat and clears his throat awkwardly, "How was the talk with Miles?" 

_"Fine."_

Waylon nods, he was really making uncomfortable small talk with this entity. This was his like now huh? Incredible. 

"That's great."

Walrider doesn't responde as he pulls into the travel stop. Finding a parking spot that was hidden from the main highway. The sun had set a hour ago and the temperature was rapidly falling as Waylon tugged on his coat. He looks back to see Walrider staring at him. 

"Can I talk to Miles?"

_"No."_

A shiver runs dowm Waylons spine, but he nods in understanding, "Do you want to come in with me? We need to get..." He trails off as he stares into Walriders glassy black eyes. There was no fucking way he could let Miles be seen like this.

Walrider seems to happily accept the inviation and crawls into the front seat before exiting the car. Standing and staring at Waylon through the window. 

"Can you...stop that?"

Walrider tilts Miles' head. 

"The eye thing. Can you turn it off?"

A few moments of silence pass before Walrider shakes Miles' head in a resolute no. 

Excellent. Amazing. Waylon opens the glove box and digs around for the aviator sunglasses he remembers finding in there when he first set out. They must have been Miles' back whan he owned the car. He finds them under the emergency first aid kit and exits the car, walking around the side and holding them out to Walrider. 

Walrider continues to stare at Waylon. He isn't even sure the thing saw what he was holding. With a sigh Waylon unfolds the glasses and places them on Miles' face. Monstrous eyes now perfectly hidden behind the mirrored lenses. 

"Lets go. Don't act suspicious." 

The Walrider makes no move in acknowledgment. Waylon shrugs, and starts towards the building. After a few paces he can hear Walrider following. It's footsteps are softer then he expected, the scuff of boots on asphalt barely audible over the muffled highway. 

The travel stop was relativly active seeing as it was barely 11 at night. A mix of truckers and families sat at the booths of the connected IHOP and dutifully ate their pancakes. No one seemed to notice the lights ominiously flicker when they entered. Hell the cashiers at both counters barely glanced at him when the door chimed. Waylon makes his way past the shelves and towards the bottled water. 

He glances at Walrider to see that it was following behind him like a puppy. The mirrored lenses looking down at him. The sunglasses indoors and at night made Miles look like a complete douchebag. Waylon holds back a snort and turns back to the water. 

He wasn't sure how long it would take then to get through the desert, he wasn't very familar with this area, it couldn't take more than a day, right? The directions said they would be able to reach their hotel in California by today, if they didn't make it well...the directions didn't specify a search party would be sent out. Then again park rangers would be-

Waylon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was over thinking things. He grabed three gallons of water from the shelf, shoving the third into the Walriders hands. It held the gallon obediently and even set it on the checkout counter after Waylon put his down. 

The cashier gave him his total and he paid with cash. The man gave Walrider an odd look as he counted out change, but he obviously didn't care enough to say anything as he wished the two of them a good day.

Waylon glances at the IHOP, he didn't have much of an appetite but Miles always seemed pretty hungry.

"Do you want something to eat?"

Walrider was silent as ever. Head slowly turning to look at the IHOP section of the travel stop before turning slowly back to face him. 

Waylon lets out a huff of annoyance, "I would like it if you at least said something." He snaps turning around to stalk back to the jeep. 

_" Pan...cakes."_ The whisper is soft and curious, almost docile. Waylon looks back to Walrider, suprised it responded to his outburst. 

"You...want some?"

Walrider tilts its head and nods, _"Yes...thank you."_

Oh god he just now noticed that Walrider wasn't moving Miles' mouth. Waylon grabes Miles arm and drags the duo over to the receptionist. 

"Uh, two please."

She smiles and leads them to a corner booth. Setting down two menus, "Can I get you anything to start."

"Coffee. For both of us."

She nods and leaves to get their drinks. As soon as she's out of sight Waylon relaxes, turning to face Walrider. 

"What type of pancakes do you want?"

Walrider looks down at the menue, tilting its head curiously. Waylon sighs, and opens the menue to the pancake section. 

"Just point to the one you want."

Walrider stares at the menue for a long time before slowly raising a hand and pointing to the chocolate chip stack. 

"Alright. Is that all?"

It nods, and Waylon lets the waitress know as soon as she comes by with the coffee. He takes a sip of it and looks around. Most of the families are gone, leaving a few lone truckers sitting at tables to keep them company.  He idly watches the tv playing local news and ignores the piercing gaze of Walrider. God he wanted Miles back so bad. 

The waitress sets the pancakes down and refills Waylons coffee. He thanks her, then finally looks back to Walrider. Its staring at the plate, face the same slack expression it had been since it took over.

"Do...do you know how to eat?" Waylon whispers worriedly as minutes tick by of Walrider gazing at its pancakes. 

Walrider nods, then dumps its small coffee mug all over its pancakes. Waylon watches in horror as Walrider takes a fistfull of pancake and shoves it into its slack mouth. It starts chewing robotically and after far too long it swallows. Walrider never broke eyecontact with him.

Waylon looks around in terror, thankfully no one seemed to notice Walrider eating fistfulls of pancake. Or they didn't care enough to watch. He looks back at Walrider to see it upend the salt shaker onto the mess of coffee soaked pancakes and take another fistfull into its mouth. 

"Walrider," Waylon hisses feeling panic start to set in, "Stop that!"

The lights above them flicker, and Walrider shoves another purposeful handful off cake into its mouth. Its chewing has gotten faster and it has mostly eaten its meal in three bites. 

"Let me talk to Miles!" Waylon whispers, trying not to cause a scene by getting too loud but he can't help wanting to scream at the nanocloud as it begins to devour sugar packets; paper and all. 

He notices out of the corner of his one one of the truckers watching in amesment and decides its time to go. He digs a fifty out of his wallet and sets it on the table before getting to his feet as casually as possible, and grabbing Miles arm. Pulling the Walrider to its feet and dragging the thing out of the IHOP. Almost forgetting the water in the process. 

Drops the water in the car and climbs into the passenger seat. He was going to sleep, and he hoped to god that Miles would be back in his body and acting somewhat normal. Waylon takes a few deep steadying breaths, and looks out the window to see Walrider standing ominously infront of the jeep. Syrup and chocolate dripping from his fingers. 

"Get in the car."

Walrider climbs into the drivers side and immediately turns to face Waylon. After everything he had been through, the night at Mt. Massive. The months spent without his family in hiding, driving aimlessly around the country and watching his back for the reaper that was Murkoff. All of the suffering of those people in the Asylum. The atrocities comitted in the act of creating this creature were an ugly blot on humanity itself.

And here he was, a fucking unemployed software engineer dragging it out of an IHOP like an embarrassed father with unruly kids. Hell, he had probably done this to his own kids once a lifetime ago. The Walrider was created by demons that grew out of humans in their special little hell that he helped create. 

And he was treating it like a unruly child. 

Waylon laughs. Not a soft snort or chuckle no. He dissolves into almost hysterical breathless laughter.

That thing had torn a man inside out. It had killed countless people in the asylum. It had terrorized everyone there. It brought Miles back from death, and forced him onward. It was defiance to life itself. 

And he had fucking fed it pancakes at an IHOP. 

His laughter finally subsides to wheezing gasps and he wipes his eyes. Turning to dig a blanket out from under the backseat. He covers himself and reclines the seat. It got really cold out on the dessert but the two of them should be ok. 

_"Did I make you happy?"_ Walriders whisper flows through Waylons mind.

Waylon shrugs. He wasn't sure what emotion was in that laughing fit. The Walrider was the reason for so much pain he couldn't imagine it making him happy.

_"I hope I did."_

Waylon ignores the voice in his head, and faces his back to Walrider. He doesn't sleep. He was still awake when Miles came back and cursed at the dried syrup on his face and hands. 

He was still awake when Miles got back from the travel stops bathroom. And awake when the sun rose over the highway and bathed that sky red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the pancakes and god is eating fistfulls of me at IHOP


	4. Epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pov swap to miles. New boy new challenges.

With a heavy sigh Miles resigns to the heat and wiggles out of his jacket, driving with his knees and to avoid drifting off into the sands.

"Don't kill us." Waylon's distant voice pipes up from shotgun. 

"Don't tempt me." Miles shoots back as he tosses the jacket in the back and retakes the wheel. Reclining in his seat and sighing. 

It was fucking hot. It was so god damn hot and it was only 10AM. They tried to leave early only to get caught in traffic, which shouldn't even exist in this shit hole area- then they almost ran out of gas before _getting_ to the damn desert. 

He looks down at the engine temperature which was worryingly teetering above the halfway point. They were safe for now but there was no way in hell he was going to let his car breakdown here in the middle of the day. He had turned off the ac a while ago and rolled down the windows to keep the engine cool. He wondered if it would be a bad idea to take the top off.

 _"Is he mad at me?"_

Miles glances at Waylon. The guy had slept all night and hogged the only blanket, rude. Although he didn't seem too grumpy when giving him directions and watching him spend 30$ at McDonald's. Just sat and stared out the window with a glassy gaze. Miles knew that look, he'd seen it on countless patients at Mt. Massive. He could only describe it as the void staring back.

 

Miles shrugs in response to Walrider. He wasn't sure what the thing got up to with Waylon last night, but judging by the mess on his hands and the odd look he got walking back in it was pretty embarrassing. 

_"Distract him."_

He bites his lip to hold back a sigh. He was doomed to be nagged by this nanoswarm forever. He clears his throat and glances at Waylon.

"So uh, what did you do at Mt. Massive?"

Waylon's eyes slowly drift over to his, and Miles shudders at how empty they are at that moment. He never knew Waylon before Mt. Massive. He just read the e-mail and felt he could trust him. He knew good and well that Murkoff was scum in every way. Anyone on the inside willing to break the companies numerous NDA's was for sure a sign something was worse than usual. The timing lined up perfectly too, he was two hours away from Mt. Massive on his way back to DC when he got the e-mail. He thought 'fuck it' and turned around to check the place out. Nothing but a camera and his two batteries. 

Not surprising he died in there. Absolutely stupid of him to go and not even think to stop at Wal-Mart and get a fucking flashlight. But hey, at least it wasn't for nothing. He didn't blame Waylon for the incident. It was easy to be mad at him for sending the e-mail in the first place. In the end he was the one who drove up to the place and broke in, Waylon didn't force him. He got his fingers chopped off and got lead in his lungs.

"Software engineer." Waylon replies. Miles wasn't expecting him to respond at all.

He nods in interest- that explains a lot. He watched some of Waylon's footage. From the few shots he saw of the guy, he assumed Waylon was another patient or even forced into commitment like Trager, judging by his lack of physical abnormalities.

"That pay well?"

He sees Waylon shrug, slowly returning from his odd headspace, "Yeah, six figures." 

Miles lets out an impressed whistle. At least Murkoff paid their IT guys well. 

"They..." Waylon lets out a soft and humorless laugh, "They never did give me my paycheck."

He can't bring himself to humor Waylon, and they lasp into silence again. Thankfully Waylon looks less like a traumatized zombie and more like deeply tired accountant. 

"Miles."

"Hmm?"

He sees Waylon turn in his seat out of the corner of his eye to look at him. Walrider lets out an annoyingly chipper buzz at the attention. 

"About...helping you and Walrider. What is it you want me to do? I've been trying to think of ways to help your...situation, but I don't know _what_ is wrong. I mean I know it's super fucked up to have it inside you, but what do you think I can do?"

It takes Miles a moment to process what Waylon had said after he had cursed, he didn't think the guy was really capable of that. 

"Personally, I'd like it if Walrider was out of me and far away." Miles states as the buzz grows louder and Walrider clicks the radio on and off, "But thats not really possible for now. We need to-" Miles pauses, Waylon was just working on software at Murkoff. He was pretty sure the guy had nothing to do with the Walrider itself. 

"How much did you know about the Walrider project? Like, how it works and all."

Waylon tilts his head and his eyes wander out the window, "I uh, did most of my work with the...Morphogenic Engine," Waylon admits, avoiding Miles glances. 

"As far as the Walrider, I heard the doctors mention it but I thought it was a latter stage project. Didn't know it was already apart of the experiments. I made sure the engine was running and programed the failsafes."

Miles didn't have a clue what the machine did. All he knew was it took about ten minutes to destroy and was very cathartic. 

"Well I'll let you in on how we work." Miles then takes a minute to gather his thoughts before speaking. 

"So here's how the Walrider explained it to me- essentially, I'm the 'New Morphogenic Engine'. Or maybe The Walrider is the engine and I'm the Walrider? Whichever makes sense. Essentially, we both live in this body and take turns controlling it."

The look on Waylons face suggested he was making absolutely no sense. 

"Ok scratch that. This-" Miles gestures to his body, "Is the Morphogenic Engine and we, me and Walrider, can take control of it at will and tell it what to do. I can't make Walrider do anything, and it can't make me do anything. Two people, one body."

He watches Waylon's eyes light up with understanding. 

"Walrider here isn't an organic being, it can't really make its own energy. At least, not efficiently. It feeds of human emotions," Miles waves his hand to vaugly gesture at their heads, "Strong emotions give off a type of energy it eats. Murkoff figured out that the most efficient energy for Walrider was suffering. So they put together that shit hole Mt. Massive to be a huge fucking chasm of suffering to fuel little Walrider here." Miles taps his temple for emphasis. 

Waylon nods, he seemed to be following along. Good to know he didn't sound like a psychopath. 

"Since we escaped Mt. Massive, Walrider has gotten weaker. There's not enough ambient suffering to power it up."

"Is that why I haven't seen it manifest that...form?" Waylon asks, squinting past Miles as if Walrider was hovering around him. 

"Yeah. It has to synthesize off my emotional energy and those around us. It usually gets most energy through my calorie intake."

"That explains your eating habits." Waylon mumbles absently. Miles rolls his eyes and ignores the jab at his new terrible diet.

 

"So what can I do for you?" Waylon asks, now looking thoughtfully out the window. 

_"I want you to reprogram me. Make me...eat other emotions."_

Waylon's face goes pale and Miles snorts, "Wording, asshole."

Walrider lets out an annoyed buzz, _"I cannot eat happiness and joy. They are different pain. I do not want to eat pain anymore. It is..."_

"Stale?" Miles adds as Walriders whisper trails off.

_"Sure."_

Waylon had started digging around in his backpack while Walrider was talking and pulls out a spiral notebook and pen. The scratching of pen on paper was a sound he sorely missed. 

"I might able to reprogram its neural network to recognize and synthesize other emotions more efficiently..." Waylon says softly, voice trailing off to a low mumble. Not that Miles knew what he was talking about.

Miles shudders a bit as he feels Walrider shift out of him. All his nerves tingled like T.V static for a split second before settling back. Faintly, he can make out the almost forgotten hulking misty shape of the Walrider. It leans over Waylon's shoulder, watching him write intently. The other man seems oblivious to the nanoswarm, focused entirely on his writing. 

"You're gonna regret wasting energy " Miles whispers to the entity. Its only response is a soft buzz. 

He can't help but glance at Waylon as the minutes pass. He had only known the man for a few days and yet he felt this was the first time Waylon expressed such excitement. It made him...happy.

\---

"Is this the place?" Miles asks, pulling Waylon away from his paper long enough for the man to look up. 

"Oh yes, here I'll go check us in."

Miles takes his small duffle bag from the back and double checks the the Jeep is locked as Waylon disappears inside the Hotel. It was a surpsingly nice place, local sort of place with a non-chain name. Whatever agency Waylon hooked up with was very generous. 

Waylon was standing next to the elevators when he entered the building, he was fidgeting anxiously. Poor guy was always a wreck out in public. Miles presses the call button next to Waylon, "What floor are we on?"

"Four."

Well, if they had to make a daring escape they could probably survive the fall. His thoughts are interrupted by the elevator arriving and a tired looking woman exits. They shuffle in and Miles watches Waylon press the fourth floor button before backing into the corner.

"Are you...ok?" Miles asks, knowing damb well Waylon had no right to be ok ever again. 

"Yeah! Yeah...buldings just..." Waylon shrugs and he appears to retreat into himself, "Make me nervous."

Miles nods, and wonders if it would be weird to pat Waylon's shoulder. The elevator doors open before he can complete any awkward gestures and he dutifully follows Waylon out and towards their room.

"Please tell me we're room 420."

Waylon snorts and gives him a disappointed look over his shoulder, "Grow up."

Miles grins and watches the doors count up as thsy walk, "Nah."

Waylon stops at door 420, swiping the keycard with as much enthusiasm as most people get into car wrecks. 

The room is a plain two bedroom affair with a tv and desk against one wall and beds against the other. Miles tosses his bag onto the one closests and beelines to the bathroom, eager to shower. 

"They have complimentary Continental breakfast." Waylon pipes up from the main room. 

Miles grins and starts the shower, "How much do you think they'll let me eat?

"I guess we'll have to find out. We're gonna be here for three days by the way."

Miles hears the gentle and rapid tapping of a keyboard. Looks like Waylon was starting on the Walrider issue. God he hoped Waylon could get this thing out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, i finally figured out a plot for this story


	5. Withering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! You know how life happens! The next chapter will come out faster i promise!

Waylon bites back a yawn and rubs his eyes. The laptop clock shows its two at night, and the moniter gets harder to look at every minute. He looks over the lines of code written on the screen and feels like a film is over his brain, keeping him from processing the text. 

It was nice in a way. Familar, like a once forgotten smell. He wanted to revel in this feeling, and forget why he was doing it in the first place.

 _"You need to rest."_ Walrider whispers in his ear. Waylon doesn't even jump at the voice anymore. 

"I'm fine." He whispers back, not wanting to disturb Miles asleep on his bed of choice. 

It certainly was not good for him to stay up as long as he was. But it was better than the dreams that still plauged him. At least when he was awake he could ignore the guilt. 

_"You are not going to be fine. You will begin to hallucinate if you do not sleep."_

Waylon shudders at the thought. Face his dreams or they would face him. He usually wasn't able to stay up for so long, since he had to drive himself around. But having Miles drive enabled his bad habbits. He closes the laptop and gets to his feet, stumbling to the unoccupied bed and collapsing onto the sheets. 

_"I will take your dreams away."_

Before he can responde, sleep takes him. 

\----

Waylon opens his eyes. He feels, weird. For the first time in a long time he feels well rested, no heaviness in his eyes or linging fear in his body. He looks over to the other bed, expecting to see Miles staring at him. Surpsingly it's empty. Waylon sits up and swings his feet over the bed. He can tell its mornimg by the light drifting in through the window, the nightstand alarm was blinking uselessly so he instead checks his laptop to see it was eleven am. 

He makes his way to the bathroom Miles had left the door ajar and the lights on. Waylon figures he might as well take a shower while the two were gone. Being with another person for the past few days, while nice, was wearing him out. Especially someone as...intense as those two. He starts the shower, locking the door before quickly stripping down. He finishes his shower in under five minutes, pulling on a fresh pair of clothing and tying his shoes before even considering unlocking the door. 

Waylon looks at himself in the mirror, noticing that the chronic dark circles under his eyes had dissipated significantly. That was a good sign, probably. He also notes thar his roots were in need of a rebleach, almost a inch of brown was showing. He wonders if Miles would help him with it. 

The door to the room opens, and Waylon tenses. Almost on instinct he climbs into the tub and quietly draws the curtain. Crouching in corner and holding his breath. 

"Waylon?" Miles calls from the other side of the door. He sighs in relief, and gets out of the tub, unlocking the bathroom door and cracking it open. 

"Yeah?" 

"They kicked me out of breakfast."

Waylon is taken aback by just how terribly distraught Miles sounds. The guy sounded like he was telling Waylon he had cancer, not denied access to mediocre eggs. 

"I'm sorry for your loss?" 

Miles sighs, and drags his feet away. No doubt collapsing in his bed, "I only ate fourteen biscuits. And like....the whole bacon platter."

Waylon slowly emerges from the bathroom, Miles idiotic rambling calming him down. He looks at the man laying dejectedly on the bed and wonders how on earth he had made it this far on his own. Then again having a sentient nanocloud hive mind probably helped him stay out of trouble. 

"Oh yeah we looked through your notes and made some comments. I'm more of an image and video guy so I can't fucking fathom what that nonsense is but it said you'd understand." Miles raises his right hand and points with his stump of an index finger to Waylon's note book that now sat on the desk. He didn't even notice it had been moved. 

"Don't point with that hand, its gross." 

Miles holds his right hand up and slowly raises his middle finger at Waylon. Eyes trained dejectedly at the ceiling. Waylon snorts, and takes a seat back at the desk. He flips through the notes book, looking over Walrider's additions. It had given him most of the code strings that he was missing and added a few tips on how his coding worked. He boots up his laptop, eager to start working on the code again.

The TV flips on next to him, and Miles groans in agony. 

"Can you watch something besides real housewives?" Miles asks the roof. Walriders reply is apparently unsatisfactory because Miles sits up and grabs the remote off the nightstand, turning the TV off. 

He listens to Miles stand and pace around the room as a background noise. It was strange how...normal Miles acted. The man had been through the same hell as he had, and he wasn't the one cowering in a bathtub at every noise. He taps a few lines of code out, frowning in thought. Maybe it had something to do with the Walrider coexisting in him. The thing made him fall asleep who knows what it was doing with Miles. 

Speaking of, Miles had stopped pacing and Waylon could make out the sounds of him writing on the notepad. He resists the urge ro turn and check instead focusing on the laptop and simplifying codes. Walrider had given him very easy to follow notes, making the process of this highly advanced code surpsingly intuitive to write. 

"He Waylon, can I ask you a few questions?" Miles says having moved directly next to Waylon without so much as a noise. He jumps and lets out a yelp. 

"What? No? I mean fine? Don't do that!" Waylon takes a few breaths and pushes his chair away from Miles. He was holding a pen and the notepad.

"Why?" 

Miles shrugs, moving to sit on Waylon's bed as in an interview, "I'm still an investigative journalist. I wanna know about Murkoff from an...inside source."

Waylon leans back in his chair, frowning slightly. He personally didn't want to talk about that shit, not now or ever. He had whined about it to his therapist a year ago which was fine and dandy but talking to a reporter about it made his skin crawl. The NDA had left a lingering fear in his bones. Then again Murkoff was out for his blood so what was the worst that could happen by talking to Miles? Besides a mental breakdown over his survivors guilt and the thought of Miles hating him for what he allowed.

"No."

Miles keeps a straight face, but Waylon can see a small twitch under his eye. 

"I'm in reporter mode Waylon, no judging! I just wanna know about Murkoff's company policy." Miles says with an easy grin. His words were worming into him, abd Waylon sighs. 

"...fine. But I won't answer some questions."

He watches Miles perk up and flip to a blank page, pen resting on the paper with a practiced ease. 

"Ok so how did you get your job at Murkoff, specifically Mt. Massive?"

Waylon closes his eyes and thinks back to what feels like forever ago. This was an easy question, he could deal with this.

"I was hired as a software consultant on a two week contract. I was a free lance software engineer and a company I worked with a few years ago recommended me to Murkoff, they sent me an E-mail and asked if I was interested."

He can hear Miles make a few notes in the notepad, "Do you remember the company you worked with?"

Waylon frowns, "Uh...Red something. It was for...radio towers I think."

Miles doesn't comment on that, instead writing down a few more notes, "What was the hiring process like? Were you able to discuss your contract? And were the projects you would be working on laid out clearly."

He shifts in his seat, opening his eyes and looking towards the drawn curtain as he thinks finding himself much more at ease with the...interview at the straightforward questions. 

"It was a standard process. They called me, and I met with two of their contractors in person to discuss my contract. They were very firm on payment, and how long I would be with them. Since I was moving for the job they were surprisingly lenient with just when I started. As far as the projects," Waylon shakes his head, "Just said I would be working with a experimental machine based around therapeutic dreaming."

Miles snorts bitterly, "Well if that isn't vauge."

"Tell me about it. I thought I was going to be coding a heart moniter." Waylon says, eyes drifting back to Miles writing on the notepad. He looked right in his element. 

"What was your first inkling that something was wrong with the facility?"

They were dipping into questions that were going to be harder to answer. Waylon looks past Miles towards the blinking alarm clock. 

"Security was tight. Like, suspiciously tight. When I first arrived I was escorted up the mountain by the security team and informed that I would be staying there for my two weeks. I only lived an hour away from the facility at the time, so I thought it was strange since they gave me time to move closer so I wouldn't have to stay at the facility."

Miles nods, and waves a hand for him to continues. Waylon swallows nervously and starts tapping his foot. 

"Then they informed me I wouldn't be allowed to call my wife while I was contracted there. This was in the first day, mind you. I was pretty much trapped there and..." Waylon trails off, clearing his throat and taking a breath, "Well then they showed me the Engine."

Miles perks up, the sight makes his stomach churn and he pointedly looks at his shoes. Dread at the next question rising in his chest. 

"How long did you work there before sending the e-mail?" Miles asks, voice more professional than he has ever heard it. 

"F-five days." Waylon replies softly, hating to admit how long he stood by and watched people suffer.

"So you worked for almost half your contract, what did you do in that time?"

"I uh, reviewed the code on the Engine software and the-the video feed reprogramming w-with the pod."

"Did you oversee experiments?"

"No."

"Did you witness any experiments?" There's an edge to this question, and Waylon's stomach churns.

He didn't _want_ to see any of the experiments. The memory of the first time some unknown variant was shoved into the machine only to scream and scream and _scream_ haunted him. The pleading voices and pure human agony never left his waking mind. He doesn't think they ever will. 

"How many experiments did you witness before attempting to alert any media?"

"Shut up." Waylon snaps, jumping to his feet. The chair rolls back and bangs against the desk. Miles looks up at him impassivly.

"You weren't there. Murkoff didn't have a gun to your head, you prick." Waylon hisses, rage and guilt swarming in his guts. He was told he was a victim of Murkoff. That he suffered too. But thats what the agency wanted him to think, so he wasn't a useless sobbing mess and could move. 

He was just as much of a monster as Blair.

Waylon turns around a walks to the door, almost breaking into a run in a desperate attempt to escape Miles. He grabs the doorknob and yanks the door open, letting it slam shut as he marches down the hallway towards the elevator. He can't hear Miles behind him, thats good. The elevator dings and he gets inside, riding it down to the ground floor and walking aimlessly down the halls. Breathing deep and even. He finds himself entering the mostly empy room housing the hotels indoor pool. The water glints sadly under the lights, and a small hot tub steams in the corner. 

He takes a seat on one of the shitty chairs and rests his head in his hand. Waylon sniffles and tries to keep from breaking into tears. He should have known Miles hated him. Of course he did. He was a monster and let Murkoff create the Walrider, he destroyed what was left of Miles life. He thought being a sole survivor was bad, but being the only one who got out scot free was worse. 

Hot tears slide down his cheeks, and he doesn't bother wiping them away. Just a few minutes. A few minutes to wallow in pity then he would return to the room and finish the code. He would free Miles from Walrider then leave them for better or worse. All he had was the ability to move forward. When he exposed Murkoff for all they did he had finished his purpose in this mess. Now he was nothing but a harmless loose end. He breaths slowly and evenly, and eventually the tears stop.

Waylon gets to his feet after a hour of staring at the floor and avoiding any thought that isn't the code. He turns around only to see a shape standing infront of the door. The sight makes his heart leap, but upon closer inspection he realizes its Miles. Eyes pitch black.

"Been here for a while?" He asks, no longer feeling much shame in them watching him breakdown. 

_"Yes."_

Waylon sighs and walks over to Miles, looking at the slack face and black eyes. Atrempting to feel angry again, but only pulling up a feeling of regret for his outburst.

_"I came for your suffering."_

The feeling of regret fades to annoyance. Walrider only wants him for how shit he feels, figures. 

_"I also came to check on you, Whistleblower. We did not mean to be so harsh."_

Waylon shrugs and steps around Walrider, opening the door, "Just don't be suspicious. I'm going to finish the code."

He can hear Walrider shuffle behind him all the way to the elevator. Thankfully the thing doesn't speak to him the ride up or when he swipes the card to the room. Waylon sits at the chair, noticing a few alterations to the code. 

_"I made some alterations."_

"Thank you."

_"Our pleasure."_

Waylon starts to type, ignoring Walrider and Miles behind him and instead focusing on the screen. Nothing else mattered but getting Walrider out of Miles. It was the least he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miles is Kind Of a big cunt


	6. Disenthrall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating the walrider the same way u update windows

Waylon spent the rest of the night and most of the next day glued to the monitor. He left twice to eat and shower, but for the most part remained a silent worker at the desk. He was still pretty mad at Miles for pushing his buttons a few days ago, not enough to give him the cold shoulder but he kept his responses short. Miles did apologise so that was nice. Currently the man was pacing around the small room in a bad case cabin fever. Its not like he hadn't gone out to eat a bunch of fast food and do laundry, the guy just got bored easily. 

"I could have written the best exposè on Murkoff with your statement, y'know? Simply the best!" He rambles. 

"I know." Waylon respondes. 

"They would be shaking in their boots at my words!"

"I know."

Miles pacing noises stop and Waylon hears him sit on the bed with a groan of annoyance. He couldn't help but smile at the sincerity of the mans words. 

"Where are we going next? Haven't seen any manilla folders appear magically on the bed with directions since you have been glued to that desk."

Waylon shrugs, knowing that tonight was their last night here he had already put his bag in the car. Instructions were the least of his worries right now. 

"Its probably waiting in the jeep right now." 

A few beats of silence pass as Miles dwells on that, "Do you trust that agency?"

"I'm not dead yet."

"Yeah but like, why are they helping you?"

Waylon shrugs, he had thought about that question often through the months, but in the end he came up with nothing substantial. He wasn't important in any way to the agency after he sent out the video. Why they put a substantial amount of time and money into him was a real mystery to him. 

"The goodness of their heart?"

Miles laughs, "Oh yeah sure thats it."

Waylon's hands hover over the keyboard for a moment. He scrolls back up through the code, skimming through it before saving the file and turning in the chair. Miles raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. 

"I uh, think its done."

It takes a few seconds for Miles to react to the news. He watches the man scramble off the bed and lean over the laptop to look at the strings of numbers and letter, "Shit seriously? Already?"

Waylon nods, "I just had to write a script for the neural network, Walrider should be able to do most of the work in updating itself once the code is downloaded and ran."

Miles shuffles from foot to foot, obviously excited, "So how do we do this? Does it just...connect to it?"

Waylon shrugs, "I assume it can download the file wirelessly and open it starting the update."

 _"Will this require me to restart?"_ Walrider asks, having been very quite despite the news. 

"Uhh, yeah I believe so. I don't know for how long though, maybe a few minutes for a soft reboot."

Walrider lets out a new noise, it was his usual buzz but a pitch Waylon had never heard it use before. By the look on Miles face he had never heard it either. 

"It's cool for you to update right? I'll just be in the driver's seat."

Walrider remains silent to and Miles frowns pensivly. He turns away from Waylon and walks to the corner, whispering in hushed tones. He watches the onsided conversation for a minute until Miles turns around, looking less worried. 

"Alright, apparently the update might take a bit but it said we'll be fine so lets do this!"

Waylon wasn't sure how to take that, the way Walrider sounded was disconcerting. It was as if it didn't want to restart, and that if it did something bad would happen. Maybe restarting takes a lot of energy and it was worried Miles body can't take it? And if Miles body shuts down the only place Walrider could reside in was him. And he did not want that abomination inside his body. 

Miles reaches for the laptop, and Waylon considers grabbing his wrist and stop him. Before he can decide Miles lays his hand on the computer and a faint black smoke raises from his skin and envelopes the computer. 

"What's that?" Waylon asks, standing from the chair and backing away. 

"The Walrider. Usually it's inside me but when it needs to connect to shit it comes out. Lets me open doors and start electronics without moving but only of it wants to. You've never seen it out like this since it takes a lot of energy."

Waylon nods, he had been suspicious of how Miles was getting in and out of the room without a key card. The laptop chimes, alerting them that a device has been connected. Waylon watches with intetest as the file is selected and transferred to an 'external device' without Miles using the touchpad. 

_"I'm going to open the file now "_

"The sooner you're out of me the better." Miles says with a laugh, he looked happier than Waylon had heard him in the past week. 

He watches nervously as the seconds tick by with not so much as a twitch from Miles. He simply stood with a hand on the computer, chest rising and falling slowly. A deep sense of foreboding was bearing down on Waylon, and he slowly backs from Miles. Pressing against the wall and edging towards the corner. 

Black mist starts emanating from Miles, thin and whispy tendriels stretching out two feet in all directions. They wave slowly like leaves in the wind before retreating back towards Miles and blurring his still form in a haze of black and grey. He hears the low buzz and incomprehensible whisper of the Walrider rise, then fall into silence. Miles shoulders tense and his hand falls away from the laptop. Waylon lowers himself to the floor as quietly as he can, trying to make himself small. The room is deathly silent, Waylon can hear himself breathing so he quickly and fearfully and brings a hand up to cover his mouth to muffle the sound. 

Miles turns around slowly. His form was hazy from the Walrider's nanomachines, obscuring his face. Miles takes a slow step towards him, then another before stumbling and falling to his knees only a few feet from him. Waylon can make out his face now, a blank slack expression and dark dead eyes. Eyes he had seen on countless patients in Mt. Massive. A broken and haunted gaze staring at the floor.

"Miles?" He whispers in shock. Miles face snaps up, the the vacant eyes meet his. 

"Down the drain." He whispers.

Waylon presses into the wall harder, desperately trying to get away from the man in front if him, "Hey calm down. Its me...you-you are gonna be ok."

"I'm not a patient...I'm not a patient. I'm..." Miles chants softly. He brings his hands up and looks at them, breaths coming harder and heavy, "He did this...Trager.... _Trager... **TRAGER**_!"

Miles voice raises at ever word until he's screaming that name. Pressing his palms into his eyes and shaking his head like an animal. 

"Miles stop! You're ok! You're not there anymore!" Waylon reaches out, hand stopping just before it can touch the black mist swirling over his body. 

_"We are rebooting. Do not panic."_

Walrider's voice is so faint Waylon almost can't hear it over Miles animalistic screaming. 

"What do you mean?" He whispers back, afraid of setting Miles off more. Walrider doesn't responde, instead Miles goes completely still. His hands drop to his side's and Waylon can see his eyes slide shut before he pitches forward. 

Miles limp body hits the floor with a thud and the black mist slowly seeps into his skin until the nanomachines disappear completely. Waylon stares at the body in shock, waiting to see if he was going to spring up and attack. Slowly his stands, pressing against the wall and carefully edging around Miles body. Trying to keep his feet away from Miles limp hands as he climbs on the bed and backs away from the body. 

He could see that Miles was breathing, and he was sure that was a good sign. Panic was starting to dissipate into worry and fear for Miles. What the fuck had happened? Walrider said that it would shut down, but Miles said he would be fine in the drivers seat...

Waylon crawls to the edge of the bed and leans over, slowly and cautiously he sets his hand on Miles shoulder, shaking him before yaking his hand away. Miles doesn't move. It was very concerning and comforting. He waits a few minutes before sliding off the bed and kneeling next to Miles. 

"Miles?" He whispers, shaking his shoulder again, "Hey wake up?"

The body is still, and Waylon presses two fingers against his neck. Miles pulse is strong, which is a good sign at least. Waylon grabs Miles shoulder and rolls him onto his back. He rolls without too much resistance but he's mostly deadweight. With some difficulty Waylon pulls Miles up, draping an arm around his shoulder and hefting him onto the bed. Through all of this Miles hadn't so much as twitched. Waylon starts to pace around the room, limping awkwardly due to his ankle flaring up in pain. It always happened when he was particuarly stressed out and he absolutely hated it. 

What the fuck happend just now? What the hell did Walrider mean by rebooting? Why did Miles start acting like a...like...one of the patients at Mt. Massive. The vacant look in his eyes and the yelling. He had stared right through him and into his past, screaming at ghosts. Waylon looks at Miles still form and bites his lip nervously, stopping his pacing at the foot of the bed. This was going go be fine. Miles would wake up as soon as Walrider finished updating. Everything would be ok he just needed to wait for Miles to wake up. Walrider will be able to live outside of Miles and they can go and let him be alone on the run in peace. Hell, Miles can even take his jeep back and go on his merry way investigating Murkoff and it's proxy everything will be just fine. 

A small sob escapes Waylon, and he sits heavily on the chair. He doesn't want Miles or Walrider to leave. They had only been with him for a short time, but the company had made him feel better than he had in months. Yeah Walrider was a sentient nanoswarm that fed off suffering and Miles was kind of a dickhead but it was a connection. Something he had been missing for a long time. 

A soft buzzing along with a chipper beeping sounds from the desk. Waylon slowly turns to see the burner cell shaking on the desk.  He stares at the phone in shock until the ringing pauses for a second before ringing again. He had never received a call on any of his cells since working with the agency, this couldn't be a good sign. Before it stops ringing he takes it and flips it open. 

"Hello?" His voice is thick from the lump in his throat and he swallows. 

"Hello Mr. Park." 

He sighs in relief at the familar voice of his agent on the speaker. It relaxes him to know that he was going to be getting help.

"Hey ma'am, why are you calling?" Waylon asks, turning to look at Miles still form. 

"We are giving you permission to take Mr. Upshur to the hospital. We do not believe he is in critical condition, but it is concerning to see him in this state."

Waylon blinks, then nods before clearing his throat, "Where do I take him?" 

"The hospital on Orange Ave. Check in as Jake Smith with Kyle Smith. Special doctors will take you both in. Be discreet."

"Y-yeah of course. Thank you!"

"Good luck Mr. Park."

The line dies and Waylon snaps the phone in half, tossing it into the trashcan before getting up to find Miles bag. He shoves his laptop in the bag and grabs the jacket Miles had slung over the other bed. Hopefully that was everything they had left in the room. He walks over to the bed and looks down at Miles, wondering how he was going to drag him all the way to the car along with his stuff. The guy wasn't exactly a lightweight, and Waylon was never particularly strong himself. He pulls the jacket on along with the bag, the jacket was a little big on him and smelled like hotel soap and the inside of a server room. Weird. 

Carefully he pulls Miles into a sitting position and hefts him to his feet. Miles is complete deadweight, and Waylon almost drops him. He grits his teeth and starts dragging Miles towards the door. Immedietly sweat starts to bead on his forehead as he opens the door and drags Miles into the hallway towards the elevator. He makes it into the elevator and leans Miles against the wall as he presses the button for the ground floor, taking the short trip to catch his breath. 

"Miles you need to lose some weight." He grumbles to his comatose friend as the doors up and he wraps an arm around him and hoists him up again. 

He ignored the odd looks he gets as he beelines to the door, dragging Miles out into the fading light of the evening and towards the bright red jeep. He leans Miles limp form against the side of the jeep and digs the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the car and shoving Miles into the passanger seat. He tucks the others legs in and buckles him in. Miles head lolls to the side, and Waylon adjusts it so that it leans on the seatbelt. His hair was messed up, and he looked pale and clammy. Waylon closes the door and rounds the jeep to the drivers side, tossing the bag into the back and getting in. 

"You're gonna be ok. It's gonna be alright." Waylon mutters to himself as he starts the car, backing out of the lot and driving towards Orange Ave. He makes it to the hospital in record time. He tries to get a spot close to the doors so he doesn't have to drag Miles too far. 

Waylon ignored more stares and stops at the receptionists desk, panting slightly, "Uh I'm Jake Smith and this is-"

"Oh come right this way! We've been expecting you!" The man interrupts, waving another nurse over. The woman wheels a gourny over and helps Waylon place Miles om it before wheeling it away. Waylon trails behind the two as they lead him deep into the hospital. 

He fidgets nervously with the hem of Miles jacket as they enter an elevator and she presses a button for the third floor. Waylon isn't sure what to say, he assumes they already know what happened. He was aware that the agency monitors him, but not as close as to know what he was doing. It probably was because of Miles joining him, which meant they knew about Walrider. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. 

The nurse wheels Miles into an empty room, only a bed and medical equipment sat in the middle and a window against the far wall. Waylon shuffles off to the side and watches another nurse come in and move Miles onto the bed. They attach a heart monitor to him and take a few vitals before leaving him alone with Miles, and the steady beep of the heart monitor. Unsure of what else to do he pulls a plastic chair up to his bedside and takes a seat. 

He wasn't a fan of these places. Not that Mt. Massive was anything like an actual hospital, and seeing gourneys or wheelchairs that looked new and standing upright helped. But there was a feeling of dread steadily bearing down in his mind. The small urge to hide and run was present although minimal. At least this room had a window if worst comes to worst. He survived a three story fall before, he could probably do it again. 

A nurse opens the door, interuppting his thoughts. He stands up as she approaches, looking down at the clipboard pensivly. 

"Well Mr. Smith, we've done a blood sample and nothing seems to be abnormal there. He's showing brain function that indicates a deep sleep not unlike a coma, but there seems to be no outright cause, we would like your permission to give him an x-ray."

That wasn't very good news. He nods, and the nurse hands him the clipboard to sign. He skims through it to cover him trying to remember the fake name before signing it and handing it back.

"You can remain here while we take him back."

Waylon nods, and watches a few more nurses return to wheel Miles out of the room and off to get his x-ray. Taking the moment of privacy he makes his way to the window and looks out. The room overlooked a portion of roofing that was good for breaking a fall to the ground floor. He taps the window to find it was made out of normal glass, but seemed this. He could probably heft a chair through it if needed. The only other exit was the door behind him, which wasn't comforting. But he could crouch behind the bed for a bit of cover if he turned off the lights. Taking that minimal comfort, he drags the chair by the bed against the wall with the door and takes a seat. Listening intently to the footsteps that pass for anything abnormal. 

Almost an hour passes before the nurses wheel Miles back into the room. He notices that they had changed him out of his normal clothing and into hospital scrubs. A nurse hands him a bag contained the mans clothing and smiles reassuringly. 

"The results will be back in a few minutes. Hang tight Mr. Smith." He says before leaving Waylon alone again. 

He looks back at Miles breathing softly in bed, his pulse sounded normal. He looked as his he could be sleeping. Waylon stands next to the bed and presses the back of his hand to the mans forehead. Its cool and slightly clammy. He guesses thats better than him having a fever. 

"Don't leave me." He whispers softly to the form on the bed, a primal and desperate need to be reassured that he wasn't going go be alone again. 

Above him the fluorescent light flickers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eats popcorn* oh boy i wonder what happens next


	7. Velleity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swap back to miles after his power nap, sorry its short!

He tries to sit up, only to smash his head into something cold and metal. Miles lets out a groan and lays back, feeling his joints pop uncomfortably. He felt sore all over, and absolutely famished. Groaning softly he opens his eyes and squints at the metal aluminum above him. Was he in a fucking vent?

"What the fuck?" He groans, looking around the stuffy area for any solid clue to where he was. All he could remember was placing a hand on the laptop and letting Walrider take over. 

Speaking of, the familar weight of Walrider in the back of his skull buzzes softly as if to remind him it was still around. He's surprisingly relieved to have it still inside him, he figured it would have run off after the update finished. 

"Where's Waylon?" He asks softly, figuring there was a reason he was laying in a vent shaft and not in the hotel room. Usually not his favorite way to end his day.

_"Safe. Are you ready to go?"_

Miles stretches his arms above his head, a impressive feat in the small space. He feelt heavy and lethargic, but he was sure he was able to move. 

"Let's bounce."

Walrider buzzes happily and Miles rolls onto his stomach. He can feel the Walrider move out of him and undo the vent shaft at his feet. Carefully he lets his feet swing out and starts backing into the hole, legs kicking open air in search of a foot hold and finding nothing. 

"Is this a long drop?"

_"No."_

Miles lets himself fall, feet bouncing slightly on a hospital bed as he drops back on it. He looks around, wiping dust off himself and climbing off the bed. He's wearing the same clothing as when he started the update, except his shirt is on backwards. Weird. He didn't feel too bad, a small headache and sore muscles. Oddly refreshed, even. He takes his shirt off and shakes the dust off before putting the garment back on. In doing so he notices a huge purple bruise on the inside of his arm. Also weird, had he been hooked up to something? He can worry about that later. 

"The update work?" Miles ask, crouching down at the door and slowly opening the door to peek into the hallway. A few overhead fluorescent lights are blown out, and an eerie red glow of emergency lights illumiate the hallway.

 _"More or less. Tell you later."_

Miles nods, and feels a tug in his chest. He follows the feeling down the hall, not seeing any further signs of struggle. He wonders why he ended up in a hospital, and where the hell Waylon was. He trusted Walrider saying he was safe, Walrider put that nerd before its host sometimes. Although he couldn't help but understand the things logic. Waylon was starting to grow on him, whether it was due to Walrider's feeling or his own. 

At the end of the hallway is an open door with a bloody smear on the wood. That was promising. Miles turns into the room, and discovers what he would call medium carnage. The window was shattered and glass shards are scattered all over the room. Two bodies of soldiers were slumped against the wall. Heads a mangled bloody mash of red and helmet shards. The sight is disgusting, and without fail his stomach twists. He had spent enough time out of the sandbox and away from Massive was for this shit to get to him again. 

"You do this?" He asks, picking his way through the glass and fallen guns towards the window, "Usually you don't leave a body."

_"Waylon was not strong enough to allow me to rip and tear."_

Miles shudders at the thought, "You stay out of Waylon."

_"Only as an emergency host. I had to save him."_

He grits his teeth and leans out the window, fresh breeze blowing across his face. The drop below was about twenty or so feet, he and Walrider could make it down without too much difficulty. The lawn had bodies of soldiers with equally bloody and destroyed heads scattered around. Along with an overturned armourd car. Miles lets out an impressed whistle. Walrider had defended him from some Murkoff agents that got too close, but to see it take down so many soldiers outside of Massive was impressive. He barely had enough energy for Walrider to lift him up. Didn't it say Waylon was its host for a bit.

"How did you do this?" He asks, stepping up to the open window and jumping out. A black mist surrounds him and he gently falls to the earth. Feet alighting on the grass as if he simply walked dowm the steps and not fallen twenty feet, "Did you hurt Waylon?"

Walrider lets out a soft, almost regretful noise. Miles huffs and makes his way around the outside of the building avoding the bodies and the glass. He wonders if he should go find Waylon.

"What did you do?"

_"I harnessed his suffering. We needed to escape."_

Miles scowls and rounds the side of the building, finally seeing the parking lot. It was oddly silent, no birds and no other mooks patrolling. He did see his jeep sitting pretty near the front, and makes his way towards it.

"We gotta go get him." Miles says, slowing down to look at the hospital. It was a big building, but Walrider had to know where he was.

_"We cannot. He needs the agency's report. They must collect him, we need to leave."_

Miles sighs, and continues walking to the jeep. He hated to admit it, but he can see the logic with Walrider's logic. The Agency had helped Waylon more than they ever needed, and as much as he didn't trust governments he knew they were the only group big enough to combat Murkoff in any way.

"What now?" He asks, jiggling the handle to find it locked, something Walrider takes care of easily. He sits in the drivers seat and buckles in, waiting for Walrider to start the car. 

_"We wait for Waylon to get released. Some nanites were left in him so we can find him later. Or he will find us. We should lay low."_

The jeep fires up, and Miles pulls out. Driving down the path like a bat out of hell, "You're telling me. Where to?"

Walrider buzzes in thought, and flips the radio on. Channel surfing until stopping on a station playing all 80s weekend. Waylon was ruining its taste in music. 

_"Somewhere with trees."_

"I do like trees." Miles says, turning onto the interstate as a few jarringly nondescript vehicles drive past on their way to the hospital. He drives further away from the subjective ground zero, and his worry for Waylon grows. He doesn't exactly know what harnessing his suffering means, but he fugures its not very nice. Hopefully Waylon would be getting help from the agency for whatever trauma Walrider put him through. 

"We gotta make it up to Waylon...this is our fault." Miles whispers, looking over and half expecting the man to be sitting next to him. He feels a pang in his heart, and buzz in his head.

_"We will."_

Miles notices that the sky was starting to darken, and frowns. He remembered it being later at night before he blacked out. 

"How long were we out?"

_"Almost twenty-four hours."_

"God damn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waylon goin Sicko Mode next chapter and it should be longer


	8. Expiate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to wayway and his rising blood pressure

Sixteen hours pass in a blur. Waylon sits in the shitty plastic chair for most of that time. Switching between nodding off and staring at the rise and fall of Miles chest. His thoughts swirl around in his skull into a numb whirlwind where absolutely nothing is gained in terms of understanding what the fuck was going on. Waylon sighs and stands up, his legs popping loudly in protest at being still for so long. He stretches, allowing the rest of his joints to pop before exiting the room to hunt down the vending machines for a candy bar. He glances at a clock, noticing that it was three in the afternoon. 

He stops at the vending machines and retieves a snickers bar and sprite, cracking the drink and downing the can in a few gulps before opening the candybar and making his way back to the room. The hospital was oddly silent, no nurses bustling around and no machinery humming. He stops in the middle of the hall and tilts his head, listening carefully. 

He can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights and nothing else. He takes another bite of the snickers bar and continues towards Miles room, unease growing in his chest. Deciding to play it safe he acts as if nothing is wrong as he closes the door and takes a seat on Miles bed instead of the chair. Tossing the empty wrapper into the trashcan before digging his burner phone out of his pocket. He found it and four hundred dollars sitting in his chair after going to the bathroom a few hours ago. No instructions, which he assumed meant sit tight.

He dials the number for the agency and presses the phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone before the call is accepted. 

"Hello, Mr. Park." His agents familiar voice chimes out, "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, there's no one here." Waylon whispers, panic rising in his voice as he thinks about the magnitude of being alone in the hospital. 

"...Our security cameras are showing people. Are you sure no ones there?"

Waylon glances at the window on the door and bites his lip, "Yeah I was just in the hallway and its dead silent. I didn't see-"

"You left the room?" She interuppts. 

"Yeah?"

Silence falls over the line, and his anxiety climbs higher than ever. He doesn't like it when his agent is anything but monotonous and collected. 

"Mr. Park I'm afraid you and Mr. Upshur have been compromised. I apologise for our oversight, but I need you to listen carefully to my instructions."

The phone almost slips put of his grasps. The sound of Miles heart monitor deafening in the silence of the room. The secluded hospital he had been lead to was seeming more like a tomb. He grips the phone, and steels his nerve. He wasn't going to die here. They weren't going to die here. 

"You need to unhook Mr. Upshur from his IV drip and heart monitor. We will be cutting the power in five minutes, in that time you need to find a place to hide before Murkoff agents raid the building. If you can get yourself and Mr. Upshur out of the building make your way into the woods and await further instructions. Otherwise stay hidden. Do not dispose of this device."

The line dies, and Waylon shoves the phone in the jacket pocket. Carefully he removes the IV needle from Miles arm, only causing a bit of bleeding. He sets the needle aside and unplugs the heart monitor. The new silence is deafening and he shudders in fear, glancing at the door nervously as he pulls the blanket off. Miles was still in the scrubs, and Waylon couldn't let him run around like that. He had less than five minutes to get Miles dressed. 

 

The fluorescent lights go out as he finishes buttoning Miles jeans. Light filters in through the closed window shutters, reminding him that it was the middle of the day. The hospital might be secluded but it wasn't exactly Mt. Massive asylum. Murkoff wouldn't get out scott free by going in to this place. Probably why the building had been emptied out. The back up generator powers on, bathing the two in a soft red light. He had managed to get his shirt on rather easily, but his pants and shoes gave him the most trouble. Waylon shoves the belt through the loops in Miles jeans and buckles them. He pulls the wad of bills out of his pocket and shoves them into Miles pants pocket before unstraddling the mans waist and pulling him into a sitting position then heaving him to his feet.

Waylon opens the door and starts dragging Miles down the hall, wondering where to even hide. Thankfully that was his forte, but he wasn't sure if he could hide both of them. Distantly he hears the pop of a rifle a floor down and picks up the pace. Dragging Miles down the hall before turning into a random room near the end of the hall. It looks to be another room for patients with a bed in the middle and another door leading to the bathroom in the corner. Namely, nowhere to hide. He drags Miles to the bed and drops him down to scour the room, knowing damn well his time was ticking. 

The room was barren and the bed didn't have any room to fit under. The only saving grace was a ventilation unite above the bed he could probably squeeze into, but there was no way in hell he could lift Miles in. The bathroom was equally barren, but maybe the Murkoff grunts wouldn't check it?

Another bang of a rifle sounds, much closer this time. Waylon starts breathing heavily and returns to Miles, roughly shaking his shoulders. 

"Wake the fuck up!" He hisses into the slack face. 

_"Soon."_

The reply is so faint Waylon can almost believe it's just his imagination. 

_"Updating takes...energy...time...Host cannot function...needs...me."_

Waylon isn't really following, but nods nevertheless. Happy to learn that Walrider didn't randomly die and take Miles with it. 

"How much time left until you're done?" He whispers, listening carefully to the silence of the halls for more gun fire. 

_"Hour...half capacity..."_ there's a small buzz of static as if its cutting out, _"Will assist."_

He stares at Miles until he hears the sound of a screw fall out of the vent shaft. He looks up to sew two remaining screws fall out and the grate to be moved to the side.

_"Host here."_

Waylon jumps on the bed and hefts Miles up, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to get him the last few feet up and into the unit. Miles had at least two inches and forty pounds on him. The fact he was able to drag the guy anywhere was a miracle.

"Walrider I'm not a fucking body builder."

He hears an annoyed buzz from Walrider, and Miles becomes noticeably lighter. He's able to hoist him up and awkwardly maneuver him into the hole for the vent without too much noise or difficulty.

"Thank you." He says as he watches the cover return to place and a single screw return to its hole to support it. 

That's one problem solved, now he had to save his own skin. Being able to move freely did make it easier. Like being back at Mt. Massive but less visual horrifying and more emotional distressing. 

_"Come with."_

Before he can protests, a feeling of TV static invades his body. His legs give out and he collapses on the bed, watching the room spin and his stomach churn as his body becomes numb. The Walrider had entered him. 

"Get out." He growls through gritted teeth. Pushing himself up and taking a stumbling step forward. The feeling was passing quickly, but the odd sensation of weight in the back of his skull was disgusting. 

_"Protect."_ Walrider whispers back, and Waylon gets an intense feeling of fondness reverberating through his mind. 

The fact that the feeling is coming from Walrider makes his skin crawl, but he knows he's running out of time. The thing was in him now, and he just had to deal with it. He makes his way to the door and peeks out into the hall before exiting and edging slowly along the wall. This was a bit different than Massive, the place wasn't in utter shambles so he had a lot less options to hide. And he wasn't being chased by agited and scared humans that could barely discern reality from illusions, but soldiers with guns. He had to be quick, and get out.

The Elevator ding echos through the entire hall, and Waylon breaks into a sprint. He turns the corner and opens the door to another room, no windows. With a curse he closes the door and quickly makes his way down the hall, trying to find a room with a window he could break open. All the while he could hear soldiers yelling orders and banging doors open. 

_"Room 233."_

Waylon nods, and starts skipping past rooms. Making his way down the hall in record time. Its a dead end, but room 233 is at the end. He grabs the door and pushes it open, closing it gently behind him. He rushes to the window and pulls the blinds up, squinting at the harsh sunlight and taking in the surroundings. The window was facing the a small forst of red woods, only twenty feet away. Unfortunately the second floor was at least a thirty or so foot drop straight down. He would be lucky if he didn't break an ankle, not to mention the soldiers he could see patrolling the perimeter of the woods. 

"Can you...help me fall?"

Walrider is worryingly silent. He swallows nervously and backs against the wall, crouching down to make himself smaller as the sounds of the soldiers close in. His heart is racing, and he wonders if this was the end of the line or if the soldiers would take him away. 

_"Yes. You must suffer. It will give me strength."_

Waylon lets out a soft whine, "H-how?"

_"Remember."_

"I don't want to..."

_"You will die."_

Waylon bites his lip, and steels his resolve. If Murkoff had taught him anything, it was that he wanted to live. No matter the cost. He wasn't going to die by their hands, not as a loose end. 

"Help me remember." Waylon speaks firmly, and he can feel the nanomachines shift in his brain. 

_"We are sorry."_

An aftermirage of the rorschach blurs at the edges of his vision, becoming clear as the hospital room seems to fade away. Waylon closes his eyes, but the image is still there. Clear as day. It fills his head with loud buzzing and his limbs fill with static. He tastes thunder on his tongue. 

He hears glass crack. Then a voice drifts through the fog. The rorschach fades away to a dark dilapidated hallway. A familar one.

Darling. 

Waylon jolts, the word echoing through his head He feels out of body, out of mind. The hallway shifts into a blurry yard with soldiers before snapping back to the halls. A large hulking figure standing at the end of it. He tries to crawl away, but he can't feel himself move. He can't feel his body. The figure walks toward him, heavy footsteps echoing through the hall. He feels himself moving, but he remains rooted in place. Pain throbs in his side and ankle. He feels himself running, his breath coming faster and desperatly.

Whore.

The Groom hums a familar tune as it approaches. Its face was shaded in darkness but the clothing was unmistakable. Hopelessness fills him, and he starts to scream. He can't feel his body, he can't feel the scream in his throat. But he can hear it, and he can hear it fade into a strangled sob as The Groom crouches down and wraps a hand around his throat. His vision wavers, and he sees trees passing before the grinning face of the monster fills his vision again. He is lifted off his feet, and his air cuts off.

 _"We are safe."_

The world cuts to black, and then color fades in. Waylon gasps and falls to his knees painfully. He can feel dirt under his hands, and warm air fills his desperate lungs. His throat burns, and all he can do is let out a strangled cry as he curls in on himself, rocking back in forth. He was safe. He wasn't trapped. 

_"I am sorry. Would you like to rest?"_

Waylon takes a few deep breaths and uncurls from his fetal position. Crawling to a large tree and pressing his back to it. The Groom was gone. He was dead. He died in front of him. He was going to be ok. He was safe.

_"You are safe. They are coming. I must return to the host. Sleep."_

He nods, and closes his eyes. Feeling his mind fall back into dreamless sleep as a weight is drained out of his head. 

\----

"Mr. Park?" 

He jolts awake, staring up at the face of a shockingly normal looking hiker. The forest was dark with the light of dusk fading quickly. The days events rush back to him, and he jumps to his feet, pressing against the tree. 

"W-what?"

The man steps back, holding his hands up palms out, "I'm with the agency, Mr. Park. I'm here to take you to a protected facility."

Waylon blinks, then nods. Relaxing slightly and stepping closer to the man. 

"May I have your burner?" 

He reaches into the pocket of Miles jacket and pulls the phone out, holding it towards the man. The hiker takes it with a smile and snaps it in half before shoving the pieces in his pocket, "Follow me, Mr. Park."

He walks through the woods with the man in silence, surprised at how far he ran. Looking down he notices that his clothes are dirty and covered in rips, mud, and blood. He sees what looks like a bullet hole in his shirt, and gingerly runs a finger over the skin only to find it smooth and unharmed. 

"What happened?" He asks softly, not sure if he wanted an answer. 

The hiker is silent for a while, slowly veering them away from the treeline of the hospital yard. Waylon can make out police tape and flashing lights on the distance.

"It is hard to explain. But you will be briefed."

That doesn't sit well with him. He fidgets with the sleeve of the jacket as they make their way out of the woods and towards the parking lot where a nondescript truck was waiting. The jeep was gone. 

"I-is Miles ok?" He asks, realizing he had almost forgotten about the man.

"We have not located Mr. Upshur or his body."

"He's in a ventilation shaft! Uh...I don't know which room, but it was near the one he was asssigned to."

The hiker nods, and opens the passanger door of the truck for Waylon. Unquestioningly he gets inside, buckling up and watching the hike flag down a cop and hopefully relay the information to him. His eyes drift back towards the front of the hospital. Walrider said that the rest of the update would only take an hour, and judging by the fading light he had been knocked out in the forest for at least five. Maybe Miles had gotten out on his own, and took the jeep. He could be miles away from him, and safe. 

The thought comforted him as much as it hurts him. Of course Miles would leave as soon as Walrider was easier to handle. He couldn't blame Miles however. The guy had no reason to stick with him after Waylon had helped him with the problem he had caused. He should have expected this. Waylon pulls the jacket closer and sinks in his seat. The hiker opens the door and starts the car, pulling away from the hospital. 

"We didn't find Mr. Upshur. We found the room with the loose ventilation shaft, and evidence of someone being there but no body."

Waylon nods sadly, staring at his hands. 

"We also can't find the jeep." The hiker adds, "Would Mr. Upshur have it?"

Waylon reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys, holding them up wordlessly. The hiker raises his eyebrow and nods, turning back to the road. Waylon stares at the keys, and lets his hands drop into his lap. He deserves this. This was how he was going to atone for his crimes, he was going to be alone on the run until his time runs out. 

 

\----

The Hiker drives him very far away. A few hours at least before they pulled into a nondescript building. Waylon was lead in and searched before being placed in a familar and small room. Not dissimilar from the one he had been in when he blew the whistle on Murkoff. A man enters the room and sits across from him. He looked very aplogetic, more like an intern than actual agent. 

"Hello Mr. Park! I'm very excited to meet yoy! I've been studying the Mt. Massive incident since day one and being able to talk to you is incredible!" He says excitedly. 

Waylon sinks down in his seat and stares at the table. He hated talking to agents like this. He understood what they wanted, his story in gorey detail. Can't blame them though, it was a event of the century for crimes against humanity. 

"Can we not talk about Massive?" He asks softly, glancing up to see the slightly disappointed look on the mans face, "O-or can we talk...later?"

The man perks up and nods, setting a laptop and a folder on the table. He opens the folder and the laptop, shifting some papers around. Waylon watches with mild interest, wondering if he was going to get his belt and keys back anytime soon. Miles did take the jeep, which had all his clothes which was rude of him. 

"Uh, Mr. Park?"

He perks up, tilting his head in confusion, "Huh?"

"Can you tell us your version of events?"

Waylon nods, and starts running through what happened starting at the snickers bar. He stops after talking about Miles into the vent room. Did...the agency know about Walrider? Hell they had to know he was at Mt. Massive? He was under close surveillance, they knew when Miles collapses in less than five minutes. The agent watches him curiously, and Waylon swallows. 

"D-Do you guys know about Miles'...uh.." He gestures vaugly with his hands, trying to convey a plethora of emotions in a simple movement. 

"We are aware of Mr. Upshurs history with Murkoff, and current condition. I am sorry to inform you that we did not buy your story two weeks ago about the college buddies, but we wanted to monitor the Walrider in the wild as it has been missing since the incident."

Waylon can't really be surprised at that revelation. Miles story was asinine anyway, but he is happy to learn the the agency isn't trying to kill Miles or Walrider yet. He nods and continues the story for a few seconds before getting interrupted. 

"You spoke to the Walrider?"

"...Yeah?"

"...How?" The agent seems distressed at the revelation, making a few notes of it in a notepad. 

"Uh, it like...stimulates the ear canal with a few nanites to simulate human speech. Only me and Miles can hear it, and even then it can choose who hears what." Waylon explains. Miles had told him how it worked a few days ago after Walrider told him an awful joke that it wouldn't share. 

"Interesting..." The man says, writing in his notepad, "And the swarm is sentient? Does it display a personality?"

Waylon nods, "Yeah it is sentient. It has...a personality of sorts. Its very...blunt? And uh...weirdly affectionate?"

"Affectionate?" The agent asks. 

He feels his face turn warm, and looks pointedly away from the agent. He hated to think that Walrider had a crush on him, but judging by the feeling it conveyed to him when he was host that thing was in love. 

"It uh..likes me."

"...Interesring..."

Waylon scowls and crosses his arms, "Can we get back to the hospital?"

"Yes of course!"

He sighs, and simplifies his experience with being host. Simply saying he blacked out when the window broke, and came to when the hiker woke him. The agent nods, underlying a few things and making notes. 

"I'm going to show you some security footage we recovered from the body cams on Murkoffs agents. This could be very distressing for you, are you ok with viewing this?"

Waylon looks nervously at the laptop and bites his lip. He was purposely lead away from the hospital, and purposely shielded from the carnage. It must have been pretty rough for the Agency to take such care for his mental state. 

"Y-yeah I'll watch it."

The Agent nods and types a few things on the laptop before turning it towards him and hits play on a video. He watches the camera turn into a familar room, pointing their guns at the man in the room. It takes him a moment to realise that he was the one on film, and then the window shatters without warning. The agent pauses the video and switches the camera into night mode before hitting play again. He watches a thin whispy black smoke rise from his shoulders as he turns around. The nightvision causes his eyes to glow in a sinister manner. It reminds him of The Groom in the darkness. 

The black mist shoots out and lifts the other soldier off the ground. He watches in horror as the soldiers head literally explodes, and his limp body is tossed to the side. The Waylon turns to look at the camera soldier, and the black mist shoots towards him. The camera shakes before the soldier is thrown against another wall before slumping down. The camera is laying on iits side, and he can see the him on screen jump out the window in a shroud of black mist. 

"Uhm, if its any...consolation I don't uh, blame you for their deaths." The man offers. 

Waylon stares at the video, feeling his stomach churn. He didn't kill those men, he wasn't stupid. But knowing the Walrider did it while it was inside him was a peculiar and disgusting feeling. He wonders if this is how Miles felt after Massive. 

"W-would you like to see uh...footage of Mr. Upshur?"

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. The agent taps a few buttons and pulls up another video. This time it was a split screen, one part in night vision and the other normal. Its from the same bodycam as the last video. The agent hits play and nothing happens for a few moments until a familar boot steps into screen. Relief floods Waylon's system at the sight of Miles up and walking. In the night vision mode a thin black mist was swirling around Miles body. He wonders if Walrider is always around him like that, invisible but present. He watches Miles look around the room and mutter to himself before making his way to the window and looking out. The black mist swirls around him, and he jumps out. 

"Thats all we have of Mr. Upshur. We haven't been able to locate him, the jeep, or Walrider. He's...really good at hiding."

Waylon nods, leaning back in his seat and letting out a soft sigh, "All my shit was in that jeep."

The agents holds back a small snort, "I am sorry for your loss."

He looks down at Miles jacket, finding comfort in wearing the item and wonders if Miles would coms back for it. He found him once before, he could find him again right? Although...maybe he should find Miles?

The faintest buzz sounds in his ear, and the light above him subtly flickers. 

"I can find Miles. But I want to know what the Agency wants with Walrider."

The man shifts in his chair and sighs uncomfortably, "We want to keep it out of Murkoff's hands. Mr. Upshur has done a good job of keeping it safe, whether he wants to or not. In the case that you or Mr. Upshur are...mortally compromised we want to contain and destroye it."

He can understand that. The Walrider was a powerful and unpredictable creature, he had helped it become even stronger. The fact that it was contained by two fucked idiots with less than twenty fingers between them was a joke. But his and Miles ability to keep Walrider contained was keeping them alive. 

"Why do you people let us just...go. Wouldn't it be easier to lock us up? Or just...kill us?" Waylon asks softly. 

The agent frowns, closing the laptop and gathering up the papers into his folder. He avoids looking at Waylon, instead turning his gaze just past him. 

"We are not Murkoff. That's something we pride outselves on, Mr. Park. To simply lock you and Mr. Upshur when you two have done nothing but survive and protect yourself is cruel. Your situation may not be ideal, but you don't have to suffer for a cooperation."

A small smile creeps onto his lips, "Thank you."

"Of course."The agent sits expectantly, and Waylon holds in a sigh. 

"What do you wanna know about Mt. Massive?"

The agent perks up, and pulls out his own personal notebook, flipping to a page and holding a pen up, "Did you know one Dr. Richard Trager?"

Waylon sinks in his seat in resignation, "Vaugly." He looks at the time on the laptop and wonders how long he could throw a bone to this agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U thought this was Waylon x miles.....but its really just waylon x Walrider feat. 3rd wheel


	9. Hamartia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reunion...so sweet

Waylon lets out a sigh and stares at the new car he was going to be driving. It was a four door silver nondescript car, plenty of room to sleep in the back. Yet he misses the cramped ugly jeep already. He looks over at the agent that briefed him, Smith apparently and pretends to be happy about this. 

"So uh, how are you gonna find Mr. Upshur?"

That was a good question. Smith was great at asking annoyingly blunt questions, especially about his trauma.

"I'll figure it out."

Smith raises his eyebrows and shrugs. He opens the door to his Cadillac and pulls out a duffle bag, holding it out to Waylon. He takes it and loops it over his shoulder. 

"Its clothing, a map, and a few thousand dollars. There's a tracker in the car by the way. No instructions for you for now. Hate to give you a limit but if you can't find Mr. Upshur in five days we have to move you out of California for your own safety."

Waylon nods, and unlocks the car dumping the bag in the back seat before turning back to Smith. The man holds his hand out, and Waylon awkwardly shakes it. 

"Good luck, Mr. Park."

"You too, Smith."

The agent gets into his car and drives off. Waylon watches until the taillights vanish before getting into his car and staring at the wheel. It had been two days of briefing with the agency, Miles could be out of state by now. How the fuck was he ever going to track those two down when Murkoff and the Agency couldn't even get a hint on where they went. He sticks the key in the ignition and turns the key, the car fires up and the radio flips on.

Then it flips off. Then on again. 

Waylon looks at the radio in shock, reaching out and turning the radio off again. He waits a few seconds before it flips on again, shuffling through radio stations before stoping on an all 80s marathon. Love Will Tear Us Apart starts playing through the speakers softly.

"W-Walrider?" He mumbles softly in awe. The radio flips on in off in agreement. 

"H-holy shit are you still here? How are you- where's Miles?" Waylon speaks to the radio in fervent hope. The radio bleats out a few lines of Joy Division with no sign of stopping. 

He bites his lip, sitting back in the seat and attempting to process what was happening. The Walrider was with him yes, but obviously not strong enough to speak to him directly. He just had to figure out of how to talk to it. 

"Here uh, flip the radio off for no and change the channel for yes. Is that ok?"

The channel switches, and he sighs in relief. Good, this was good. A few questions run through his mind and he decides to settle on a few simple questions. 

"Are you...ok? Did the program work?"

The radio switches channels, and he smiles, "Is Miles ok?" 

The radio switches. Waylon smiles, happy to have helped the two.

"Can you tell me where Miles is?" He asks. The radio turns off, then on before switching. He frowns at the move.

"You know where he is...but can't figure out how to tell me?"

The radio switches channel and Waylon sighs in relief. He dugs around the car for a minute, managing to fish out a pen and the back of road map. He had a plan.

"You know morse code?"

The station switches and Waylon grins. He wasn't well versed in morse code, but he could at least take notes on it to translate later. He looks at the radio in anticipation. 

"Whenever you're ready. Go slow." Waylon says, a few seconds pass before the check engine light turns off then on. It blinks a few times before stopping. He guesses that was a bit better than the radio turning off and on. He waits for the flashing to start again before taking notes. The process is ungodly long since he's not particularly good with taking notes in code to begine with. 

After a good ten minutes the check engine light stops flashing, and hes left with a page full of dots and dashes. Hes sure the message was repeated at least two or three times for his benefit. Now all he had to do was find a library to translate this. He finally pulls out of the lot and towards town, eager to be back on some sort of track. He drives around for a good thirty minutes before spotting a public library and racing inside. Tracking down a book on morse code is easy, he sits with the book and the map at a secluded table in the back trying to decipher the scrawl of symboles. It takes him another ten minutes if trial and error until he writes gets a semi coherant sentance. 

'Redwood National and State Parks'

The lights above him flicker, and he gets up. Making his way to the receptionist desk amd politely asking if she can give him directions to the Redwood National Park. She's nice enough to print him instructions too. He was on his way to Miles in less than three hours, pretty good work for a software analysis. 

"Tell Miles to stay put, I'm on my way."

\---

He drives almost an entire day straight, stopping at a hotel under his fake license for a solid tweleve hours of sleep. When he gets in the car Walrider confirns the Miles hasn't left the park. He was less than an hour away and slightly nervous. The last time he saw Miles conscious the guy was babbling before passing out on the floor for two days. The guy made it out of the hospital fine, but he might be pretty bad off being out there alone. He can't help but remember the night they first met and how unhinged he had acted. 

"Did you knock Miles out?" Waylon asks softly, making the turn into the park and following the vehicle trail deep into the woods. Walrider switches the station in a curt yes. 

"Will you tell me why when we get there?" He asks. Walrider is silent for a long time before switching the station in a reluctant yes. 

He pulls into the visitor parking, looking for a red jeep but only seeing one other car this late in the afternoon. He stops his and steps out, pulling Miles jacket tighter and making his way towards a wide trail for emergency vehicles. A sign said no pedestrians and he dutifully ignores it, walking through the trees deep into the dense woods. He wonders how he was going to find the two all the way out here. Its not like he had anything to use for Walrider to use to signal to him. 

Time melts away as he walks, staring up at the towering trees in awe. Birds chirp softly around him and he feels a strange peace flood his body. Part of him wishes his wife and kids could be here, but another more selfish part was happy that he was alone. Or at least partly alone. Just him, a few nanomachines and his thoughts. Not to bad. 

Subtly, the calls of birds fade away into silence. Its eerie, how slowly the silence falls. Until its just him and his footsteps on the dirt and rocks. He must be getting close to Miles and Walrider. Animals were never to happy to be near the two. Anticipation bubbles in his chest and he walks faster, squinting down the trail in search of an obnoxious red jeep. The trail starts to bend a mile or so up the road, he had been walking for at lessr two hours with a small break inbetween. Dusk was starting to fall, and he realizes he didn't bring a flashlight. He didn't want to be stuck out here alone without even a camera. He would walk another few minutes before turning around. 

He rounds the bend, and stops in his tracks. The red jeep was parked in a small clearing for turns. Perched on the hood of the jeep, head tilted up was the familar form of one Miles Upshur. Waylon can't help but smile at the sight, familar whisper sounding in his ears. Miles cocks his head, and turns to look at him. He's too far away to make out any expression, but Waylon wants to believe he's smiling. He takes a single step forward, then another as Miles slides off the hood of the car. He breaks out into a sprint, and practically throws himself against Miles chest, pulling the man into a tight hug. He was slightly cool to the touch, and smelled like the trees around them as he buried his face in the mans neck. He feels Miles let out a huff of surprise before the others arms encircle him in a gentle hug. He can feel the Walrider buzz happliy between them. 

"Hey." Miles says softly, "Miss me?"

Waylon lets out a small laugh, and pulls away to look at Miles face. He notices a soft pink blush on his cheeks. 

"A bit." Waylon admits, "Mostly worried. Last time I saw you I had shoved you in a vent."

Miles rolls his eyes and fixes him with a small grin, "Not the first time I woke up in a tight spot, hopefully its the last."

He reaches up and runs his fingers through Miles hair. Waylon knew he was a bit impulsive, they were few and far between but almost always they worked out for the best in the end. Even the hell that was Mt. Massive. No reason to stop now. He pulls Miles down and presses their lips together.

Immediately he feels a chill enter his body, almost like lightning. His fingertips tingle with static and his head feels light. Slowly he pulls away breath comimg slightly faster as he nervously meets Miles gaze. He's relieved to see warm brown eyes looking back instead of an inky black caste. Waylon lets out a nervous laugh and pulls out of Miles arms. Maybe he shouldn't have been that impulsive. 

"That jacket suits you." Miles says after a short silence. Waylon looks down and feels a warmth rise to his face. 

"Th-thanks. Do you want it back?"

Miles tilts his head, eyes trailing up and down Waylon. The action doesn't make his skin crawl, instead his stomach flutters awkwardly. 

"You can keep it for a bit. It's getting cold."

He watches Miles lean against the jeep and look out towards the darkening woods thoughtfully. He wonders if he had pushed the man too far.

 

 _"You embarrassed him."_ Walrider whispers. Waylon jumps, and Miles huffs. 

"The code worked by the way. Walrider's energetic as ever. But..." Miles stops, frown darkening his features, "I guess you have some questions."

Waylon nods, and Miles turns to climb back on the hood of his jeep,patting the spot next to him. He takes the invitation and climbs on the vehicle, leaving a few inches of space between him and Miles. 

"I can't live without Walrider." Miles says with resignation, leaning back against the hood. 

"What do you mean? The program worked right? It should be strong enough to leave?" Waylon asks, resting his arms on his knees and turning to look at Miles curiously. The others face was impassiv, staring up at the sky. 

"It did work. But if it leaves me...I..." Miles lets out a soft sigh, "I-"

_"Without me Miles mind will collapse. I have been shielding him from the psychological strain of Mt. Massive and being my host. If I were to leave him completely he would regress completely into the state of a variant."_

Waylon stares at Miles in shock, the man meets his eyes for a few moments before turning away in shame. 

_"I put Miles into a sedated state during the updates to protect his mind. We are too closely entwined to be apart now."_

Miles nods sadly, confirming what Walrider said. Waylon looks off into the woods, giving Miles a few moments of privacy. He listens to the man take a deep breath, and sniffle. Miles was trapped with the Walrider, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"I...I'm sorry Miles." Is all he can think to say. Miles lets out a snort, and then a shakey sigh. 

"It's fine. Walrider broke the news to me yesterday. I've been...workin' through it."

Waylon reaches out slowly, fingers brushing against Miles hand as he entwines their fingers as best he can. He squeezes gently, and Miles squeezes back. The tips of his fingers tingle with energy. 

"I don't mind, uh you being with Walrider."

"Don't put it like that."

He laughs and turns to look at Miles, giving him an encouraging smile, "Walrider isn't too bad. He's pretty funny."

"He?" 

_"He is fine."_

Waylon rolls his and scoots closer to Miles, feeling a buzz of approval from the Walrider. He leans against the windshield of the jeep and looks up at the stars. He felt at home with the two, as much as he missed his family he couldn't help but think it was better for him to be away. He could barely look at his kids after Massive, he didn't want them to know what had been done. But with Miles...the man went through the same hell as him. And he was living it every single day.

"Waylon..." Miles whispers softly. He turns to find the man only a few inches from his face. Miles other hand comes up and brushes Waylon's draw. His fingers leave cold trails in his face, and he shudders.

"I can't tell my feelings from Walrider's sometimes." Miles says thoughfully before surging forward to press another kiss to Waylon's lips. The same rush of static hits him, and he pushes forward into the kiss. Waylon is about to run hus tongue over Miles lips until the man pulls away. 

"But I'm starting to think I like you."

Waylon laughs, and leans back onto the hood. Feeling breathless and alive. 

"I think I like you too."

 _"I love you."_ Walrider whispers. Miles lets out a loud groan and makes a fake gagging noise, ruining the mood. 

"I love you too, Walrider." Waylon coos back, he feels Miles shudder as Walrider no doubt sends shocks through his body. 

"Don't encurage the thing." Miles warnes playfully, sounding better than he had in a while. Waylon doesn't responde, instead leaning his head against Miles shoulder. 

They would never be free of Murkoff, thats for sure. But that hell couldn't take everything away. He would stay by Miles and Walriders side no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might add an epilouge to this just to make it even but eh who knows, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
